Second Chances
by Philosopher Fictionist
Summary: FINISHED. Sequal to Convince Me. What can I say? R for, well... everyone has a potty mouth and some stuff might just happen. Not sure yet. Same rating because it's the same, uh, style(?) as Convince Me. More of a continuation, really
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

            She was running. She didn't know where, but she had to get away. From him. Pounding footsteps followed her down an alleyway she was sure would cut out back into the street, but she'd miscalculated. The rain didn't let up, a rumble of thunder masking the sound of her feet hammering down the narrow street. Her chest heaved as she gave up, leaning her forehead against the wall, tears springing free. She turned slowly, watching him slow to a jog and then a walk.

            "Don't you ever fucking run from me again," he warned, eyes narrowing as his fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt. "You'll just make things worse, and you know it, don't you?" She nodded, holding her stomach as her back slid along the wall, finally sitting on the ground in a puddle, droplets of water running down her face to conceal frightened tears. Now freed, he dropped to his knees before her, grabbing her ankles to wrench her away from the wall, a quiet, surprised gasp escaping her.

            "Please don't," she stammered, fighting him feebly. He looked angry, concentrating on the task at hand. She trembled as his hands worked on her pants, roughly ripping them open. And then she snapped. It was as though she was outside herself, watching herself force her knee into his chest, knocking backwards as she calmly stood and fixed her clothing. Her head worked side to side, vertebrae in her neck popping as they adjusted. Dripping fingers closed around a broken pipe, letting it hang from her hands loosely as he struggled to catch his breath, standing slowly.

            "What're you gonna do?" he asked, staggering backwards slightly, a river of blood gushing from his nose. She only shrugged nonchalantly, but her eyes stared at him from under soggy eyebrows, suddenly cold and detached. He backed himself against a dumpster, fingers searching for something with which to defend himself, finding nothing. His search grew more desperate as she lifted the pipe over her shoulder, testing its weight, mimicking a baseball player preparing for his turn at bat. His eyes grew wide as her eyebrow arched and she swung. And then the whole world went dark. For him.

Chapter 1        

            Sarge glanced in the mirror, inspecting the bruises darkening around her eye. She heaved a sigh, wiping the blood trickling down the side of her face with the back of a hand, gingerly touching the cut just behind her temple. Community showers should be tomorrow. _Dandy,_ she thought with an evil smirk. _Get scammed on 'cause I'm the only fucking girl in this hell hole. Well, I'm not fucking anyone, but whatever_. The smirk fell, head snapping over her shoulder to listen to the brawl that just broke out down the darkened hallway. She rolled her eyes. _God damn sausage fest._

            "Hey Sarge?" She sniffed, testing the air. It was Red.

            "What?"

            "We're gettin' a new one today."

            "Really." She posed it as a comment instead of a question, turning to lean against the damp prison wall behind her. Red only nodded, propping his bulky form against the door to her cell. "Who?" She scowled at the shrug Red expected to be taken as his answer. "You're gonna have to a hell of a lot better than a fucking shrug," she snapped.

            "I don't know," he insisted, but then wiggled his eyebrows. "I hear it's a big fish, though. Word is Anders shelled out 1.5 for him." He was greatly satisfied when her eyebrows rose and she rubbed her chin with the knuckle of her thumb.

            "Where from?"

            "Thuria, I think." She nodded. "You know who it is?" She shrugged, plopping onto her bed and stretching her thin, muscular form out in a pose that slightly resembled the cover of a cheesy romance novel. Only more threatening. She might be the only female in this cell block – that was a feat – but she definitely ran the show. It'd taken her six years to work her way up, but no one crossed her. "Any idea at all?" Another noncommittal shrug. Footsteps thudded past the door, followed by several more pairs.

            "That Twosy?" Red nodded in response. She snickered. "Who'd he try to fuck with this time?"

            "Daniels and Art."

            "My money's on Twosy." Red agreed with a small smile. "Get the fuck out of my cell." He sent her a glance and started to go, but stopped and turned his chin over his shoulder. "What?" she asked, suddenly irritated.

            "You're the only one with an open bed right now."

            "We'll see," she said quietly, her voice suddenly turning into a growl.

            Riddick lurched into consciousness, the cryo wearing off in less than a second. His eyes darted around, searching for signs of another human. Footsteps fell on the stairs, and he watched two legs appear, then the rest of Riker. A growl vibrated deep in his throat. _Fucker got smart_, he thought, eyeing the pistol strapped to Riker's hip.

            "Don't even think about it, convict," Riker warned. Riddick only turned his eyes upwards to stare into Riker's black eyes, Riddick's shining as the merc moved. He could tell Riker was nervous under his stare. _Hell, I would be too_. "See, you got lucky, here, Riddick," Riker continued, handing the pistol to a female merc standing a few yards from Riddick. _Definitely got smart._ Two more weapons were handed to the girl, and Riker stood in front of Riddick, his hands on his hips in a stance meant to be intimidating. It wasn't.

            "Lucky," Riddick snickered. "Yeah."

            "See, while you were off with whatever the fuck her name was," Riker said, knowing it would get under Riddick's skin. Riddick's jaw tightened as he looked away. "Company was building a new triple max slam." Riker leaned in, talking quietly into his ear. "Just for bitches like you." Riddick lunged, but Riker anticipated it, backing up quickly. Riddick had a good five inches on the merc, and no matter how hard he strained, his bindings wouldn't give him another inch. "You're never gettin' out," Riker finished, nodding in satisfaction, an evil smile hanging off his lips. Riddick grunted, sitting back down. He was getting tired of this game.

            "That's what they told me before I broke out of Butcher Bay. Only took me three days," he said with an equally evil grin. Riker turned to his partner and nodded. _Fuck_. He saw the tazer, and braced for impact. Perception swirled down the toilet, and the world went black.

            Nothing but muffles. Definitely voices, but completely indecipherable. It was as though he was under water, someone talking to him from the surface. Nothing made sense.

            "When he's out, he's down." Riker's voice cut through the darkness, but no other sensations appeared. "I figure it'll take three or four guards at least, just to get him into the fucking decontamination room." A mental snicker. _Three or four couldn't lift my foot with a fucking crane._

            "Three or four ain't nothin," he heard someone else say. _Is that Anders? Christ, he should have been dead by now. _ "Taps, go get the twins. You all get the convict up and into decon."

            "You got the fee?" _It's always about the money, isn't it Riker? Don't give a shit about justice if there's money involved._ _The creed is greed_. Carolyn hadn't believed him. If only she could hear this. Boots stopped near his head, and the feeling came back into his body as he was hoisted off the ground, the world around him shaking as the guards struggled to keep in step with each other to avoid knocking one of the others over. Riker and Anders continued talking, but all he heard was voice – no words. The guards grunted and groaned as they carried Riddick's massive, limp body down the hallways. _Place is a fuckin' maze. Probably why they used the damn tazer. Confuse me enough to forget the floorplan. Fuckers are definitely getting smarter. Damn._

The wind was knocked out of him as he was dropped to the floor on his stomach. He groaned and tried to roll over, his nerves finally awakened enough to move, but he was bound too tightly. Even his ankles. His eyes opened slowly, feeling like they had weights attached to them. All he saw was the tip of a needle approaching his shoulder, and the world went dark again. "He's yours once I get the money," Riker said, watching Riddick's body go lax again. The guards waited a few minutes, until Anders nodded at them, and Riddick was stripped, left in the floor. The door was shut with an electronic beep signaling a good seal, and the room filled with decontamination gas.

            "You'll get the money once he makes it through the process," Anders corrected, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "If he even looks like he'll harm one of my guards, he's dead and you're penniless."

            "Keep him drugged and he won't," Riker snapped, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the table. Anders shot him a warning glance. The room cleared and the guards re-entered, dropping a bundle of prison-issue garments on the floor next to Riddick's head. A vile was broken under his nose, and he lurched away from it, sneezing.

            "Get dressed, convict." The guard kicked the clothes at him, and he scowled, sleepily dressing. No use fighting right now. Not with this many people watching. The whole process was meant to be demeaning, but it wasn't. Not to Riddick. As the entourage watched Riddick dress, Anders nodded across to another guard, who nodded back and pushed a button. Riddick heard a hiss, then felt a sharp stinging in his back.

            "If you ask nicely, I might do what you want," he said dreamily, wobbling on his feet before falling hard to the floor. The sedative worked only long enough to allow the guards to re-enter and chain the convict up, pulling him to his feet as he started to wake. Five minutes tops. _Mental note._

            "He's a little more compliant than you made him out to be, William," Anders said quietly, fingering his goatee. Riker shot him a sharp stare.

            "His woman was a casualty," Riker explained.

            "We do what we must," Anders commented, nodding slightly. "Once he's in the transport to cell block Z, you'll get your money."

            "How much longer is the process, then?" Riker demanded, still pissed the Anders used his first name.

            "He'll be tagged and vaccinated, and then taken to transport."

            "Tagged." Riker shook his head, but Anders only nodded, leaving the room with the merc in tow. Anders took him to a waiting area, gesturing to the refrigerator with the wave of a hand. "I'll let you know when the transfer is complete. Wait here."

            Riddick was taken to another stark white room and forced into a chair, chained down. A man, who appeared to be some semblance of a doctor, approached him and grasped his arm, tying it down. One of the guards secured the other. A large syringe was lying on the prep table next to him, and he eyed it warily.

            "This is an electronic tag," the doctor explained, nodding at the syringe as he yanked the straps tight. Riddick tested them. _Must be new. Not worn out at all._ The doctor smirked at the attempt. "We change them after every use, just in case." Riddick scowled, watching the doctor load the syringe with a little thing that looked like a computer chip into the syringe. His cheek twitched as the needle pressed through his skin, grimacing as the chip invaded his flesh. The syringe was discarded, and a new, smaller one was seized. No, this wasn't a syringe. It was an intravenous needle. The doctor inserted it and taped it down, retreating to dig through the cabinets and return with six viles of various colored liquids. Each was injected, and Riddick's arm grew warm, tingling.

The room started spinning, and he felt his arms release from the straps and slide from the arms of the chair into his lap, where they were secured to the chain around his waist. The shackles around his ankles had never been removed. _They got this down to a science,_ he thought, trying to shake the fuzz out of his head. A guard wrenched him to his feet and shoved him out of the room and down another hallway. The chain between his feet was so short he had to shuffle down the corridor. A door was opened, and the guard pushed him through it. It was small, round room with another door on the opposite side of the one he was just sent through.

"Turn," the guard said. Riddick complied, suddenly tired. "Stand right in front of the door." His shackles were removed. "Hands through the opening." The cuffs were removed. "They'll take the chain around your waist off inside." Riddick nodded, and the guard pointed at the other door. "Eventually, maybe." A growl, but no real response. "Wait for the beep and hang onto your ass." Just to be a jerk, Riddick reached around and grabbed his behind, for some reason satisfied with the snicker the guard granted him. "Oh. Your cell assignment is in Z 39."

"Does it matter?"

"Lockdown's a bitch," the guard said with a shrug. It may have seemed like a meaningless conversation, but it really wasn't. Those three words told Riddick something happened after lockdown that was more trouble than he wanted to deal with at the moment. Hopefully he was lucky enough to have his own cell. He heard the beep and the whoosh of air as the door slid open, and he walked into the dimly lit hallway, ears pricked as he started down the steps.

The steps lasted forever, and the air was stale and humid. He hadn't seen much of the planet after they landed. Only the port, and that was in a bubble. He paused, mid-stride as the realization hit him. They built this prison as a synthetic environment. Outside the bubble, the air was incompatible with the requirements for human breath. That meant the only port was the one so heavily monitored by the prison itself.

"Fuck." He shook his head. This was going to be harder than he thought. Butcher Bay was nothing. But this. "Shit." He continued down the stairs, wondering what the fuck those viles held. Couldn't be just vaccinations. Those never affected him like this. He was weak, tired, and dizzy. The stairs opened to a large, round cave, and he reached out, running a hand over the slippery rock. Several pairs of eyes focused on him, and he just stared them down until they looked away.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"New fish?" He turned his head slowly to the side, glaring at a stocky, red-skinned man leaning against the wall, sipping something out of a metal cup. "They call me Red." Riddick only grunted, picking a hallway to walk down. Red shrugged and followed.

"You made it how long in here being someone's shadow?" Riddick gruffed, pausing to stare the red man down over his shoulder.

"Trust me, you need someone to show you the ropes." Riddick snickered, turning back to his stroll.

"This ain't new to me."

"I can tell," Red said, a small smirk appearing. "But I hate seeing a new resident surprised by lockdown." Riddick paused, mulling that over.

"Guard said something about that." Red nodded.

"They have to, legally, if they pull the shit they do."

"Which would be?"

"They let the animals out at night," Red said quietly. Riddick only smirked.

"Figures," he snorted. "Not dead if we're still on the books." Red nodded in agreement. "One question though."

"I don't know what the fuck they are," Red said, shrugging.

"No, I haven't seen any women here. This all-male or just more violent than women tend to get?" Red smirked.

"There's one." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Don't know where she went, though. Tough one, too. Wouldn't mess with her if my life depended on it." Red smiled over at Riddick. "I'm sure you know the food chain deal." No response, meaning yes. "She's at the top. You need something, you go to her. What cell did they give you?" Riddick glanced at him from the corner of his eye, Red seeing only a flash of silver. "We got something like a bet going on."

"Why's that?"

"We hear things."

"There's only one way convicts hear things in prisons," Riddick commented. Red only shrugged. "You got piss ants talkin' or what?"

"One-way, mostly."

"The girl." Another shrug from Red.

"Don't make assumptions about her. She's nothing like what you'd expect her to be."

"Assumptions get you killed." Red nodded.

"Z 39," Riddick finally admitted, glancing up at the worn numbers next to cell doors. "Where is it?"

"All the way at the end of the hall, take a right, second left, and it's down there somewhere." A satisfied smile crept over Red's face, and Riddick figured he'd won whatever kind of bet whoever had going. "I don't remember which one it is. Used to, but it's just habit now."

"Really."

"That's where Sarge is." Riddick nodded as though the name meant something to him. "Soap thief extraordinaire. You want soap for the weekly showers, Sarge is the person to talk to."

"Weekly showers?" Red snickered.

"That's what I said. Community, but a shower's a fuckin shower."

"So what side is Sarge on?" Riddick asked, turning the corner. Red followed, just as Riddick expected. Every prison had a self-appointed welcoming committee. Either that was Red, or someone sent him to get the skinny on the new fish.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's convicts and there's inmates," Riddick said with a shrug. Red nodded. "Convicts play by the rules and inmates somehow survive."

"Sarge is just Sarge," Red drawled. "Convict to the core. Trustworthy."

"No one's trustworthy," Riddick snapped with a hard stare. Red held his hands up, granting Riddick's comment. "Down here, it's every man for himself." They walked in silence for a while.

"Here we are," Red said, pointing a few doors down. "Sarge isn't there though." Riddick entered the small cell, glancing around. A tattered book – Wittgenstein. _Interesting.__ Philosophy. At least he's halfway intelligent._ A few candles, some shivs in the process of fashioning, an extra pair of boots, and a few wife beaters. In the corner, there was a box, but he knew better than to even appear to have the desire to go through it.

"So where is he?" Something about the smirk on Red's face triggered bells in Riddick's head.

"Probably the canteen." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Open meals. Whenever you get hungry, as long as we're not on lockdown, unless you've got the balls for it." Red shrugged. "No one does though. It's just fucking stupid."

"Don't scare him, Red." Riddick's head snapped back to the door, taking in the tall, thin woman leaning against the doorframe. "Who made you the fucking welcoming crew in the first place?" She took a bite of the apple poised artfully between long fingers, and stared at him with cold, hateful blue eyes.

"I won, by the way." Her eyebrow rose, and he felt a twinge in his gut. She looked too much like Jack. Not necessarily features, more mannerisms so far. "He's in here."

"Shit." She pushed herself away from the wall and set the half-eaten apple on the bed, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh. "How much?"

"Three." She rubbed her forehead, reaching under her mattress for a box and fishing out three cigarettes.

"Fuck."

"Someone want to explain what the fuck is going on here?" Riddick asked, glancing between them.

"The bet," Red said, a victorious grin turning his lips. "She didn't think they'd put someone in with her."

"You're Sarge?" Riddick asked, his voice betraying his surprise. Her icy stare turned on him.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm Sarge. And you're Riddick, aren't you?" Red coughed, trying to cover his surprise, and she glanced back at him.

"Did you even to bother to ask him what his fucking name was?" she asked Red, pointing at Riddick. "Ass fucker."

"Hey –" She sent him a look, and Riddick was surprised he actually shut his mouth.

"Your reputation precedes you, Riddick," she said calmly, picking up the apple again and leaning back against the wall, crossing her legs in a rather yogic position.

"That a good thing?" She only shrugged.

"We'll see, I guess." He watched her consume that apple slowly, every now and then licking the juice running down a thumb. "Did Red give you the tour?" She glanced up at Red.

"He was in a hurry to find his cell assignment," Red stated, still pouting about being cut off.

"Shit," she muttered, rubbing her forehead. "Hey, Red." He perked up. "Did you ever track down Twosy?"

"When?"

"After Daniels and Art tried to mow him over."

"No, why?"

"He's got some shit I need," she said, too plainly to be merely a superficial comment. Riddick's eyebrow rose, and she turned to him. "See, all of us have our specialties. Twosy's got the medical shit. Doc's, well, the doc. Red's the conversationalist. Daniel's the doper, but I don't fuck with him much," she explained, shaking her head in disgust. "Never had the patience for that shit. Me? I'm the soap bitch. And Art's a fucking squealer. Not much good for anything, so watch out for him."

"I can figure this out myself, you know," Riddick said slowly, slightly amused. She smiled sweetly.

"Art's the kind of guy to get you thrown in the hole for pissing crooked," she explained, the charming grin twisting into revulsion.

"The hole," Riddick said nodding. "Every slam has one." She snorted, taking another bite of her apple. "Butcher Bay was the pit, Orphea Nine was the cage. Guess here it's the hole." 

"Welcome to Asphyxia." Riddick snickered. "You noticed the bubble, I'm guessing." He nodded, shoulders still shaking with silent laughter. "Yeah, I thought the name was kinda hokey too." She shrugged a shoulder, and his smile fell, eyes suddenly sad. A Jack gesture. "But hey, it's fitting." She chucked the apple into the corridor and wiped her hands on her pants. "Step out side the bubble, and suffocate in three seconds."

"That fast?" She shrugged.

"Everyone who's tried never came back to tell us," Red said quietly.

"So it's been done."

"What, getting out?" Sarge asked. "Sure. I could show you the way if you have a fucking death wish." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Common knowledge. But you can't get off the planet still breathing without hitting up the prison port – only port on this God forsaken planet. And that," she said, flopping back onto her pillow, "is impossible." Riddick leaned against the wall behind him and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Red, why don't you show Riddick around before lockdown?"

"I got a date," Red said quietly. Her eyebrow rose.

"If I find out you're doing that shit again, I'll personally beat the fuck out of you again." Riddick watched the exchange with interest, not really caring what 'shit' Sarge was referring to. "It's not worth the trouble."

"Sarge – "

"Fucking drop it!" she yelled, launching herself off the bed to slam Red against the wall. It wasn't until then that Riddick noticed how toned she was. She might be slight, but she was packed. She and Red stared at each other for a while, until she gave him a final shove and let him go. He cleared his throat, taking in the oxygen she'd just deprived him. "Go," she said, her voice hollow. He sighed, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, but she deflected him, twisting a hand in his shirt and slamming him into the wall again, glaring at him. "Just go." He nodded, untangling himself from her grasp before slinking through the doorway. She ran her fingers through her hair, retying the knot of dark hair on the back of her head. "Lockdown's in a few hours," she said quietly. "I'll give you the short tour tonight and the more extended one tomorrow."

"What was that all about?" he asked quietly, using a foot to push away from the wall, shrugging to unstuck his now wet shirt from his back.

"I'm sure you'll find out eventually," she said, the tone in her voice warning him not to ask again. He followed her down the corridor, mentally mapping the floor plan. The place really was a maze. "It's confusing at first," she said with a sympathetic smile and a dismissive shrug. "You'll get used to it."

"I'm not new to the system," he snorted.

"I know that," she returned. "I heard about you after I graced Butcher Bay with a visit." A smirk touched the corners of her lips, but she didn't look at him. "Haley was quite fond of you," she added.

"Funny. Didn't like him too much." She snickered.

"So where are you from, anyway?" He sighed. _Fucking small talk._

"I don't know." She stopped walking, turning to him. "Never cared enough to find out."

"You're just a sociologist's wet dream, aren't you?" she asked with a smile. He only shrugged. "That's the shower room," she said, pointing to a metal door with a tinted window. "Open once a week. Good times." Her voice was flat with the last comment. They continued down the hallway. "What's with the goggles?" she asked, pointing into another room. "That's Doc's place. He's probably out making a house call right now. I'm surprised they let you bring them in here."

"Not much they can say." She glanced at him.

"Personal effects are personal effects," she pressed.

"This isn't listed as a black hole prison, Sarge," he said, a playful tone smirking his voice. "You're smart enough to figure that out, judging from the book on your bed." She smiled.

"Shined, huh?"

"Best a prison could offer," he said with a modest shrug. He knew it was a novelty.

"Hell, this place should be listed," she said with a cringe. "This is the brightest it ever gets. They just locked us down a couple of days ago to change out some broken bulbs." She paused, glancing around. "In fact, I've never seen it so fucking bright in here."

"How long have you been here?"

            "In general or this slam?" she asked, shoving her hands into her pockets. "That's the canteen," she interjected, nodding at a doorway without a door. "It's the only room you'll probably have to worry about lights with. None of the others are that bright." He nodded.

            "In general and this slam."

            "Eight years in general, this slam for six." He grunted in response. "I know you're wondering, so I'll just go ahead and tell you." His eyebrow rose, but he watched her as he waited for explanation. "I'm twenty six. First kill was when I was eleven. It took them thirteen bodies to figure out it was me." A proud smile touched her lips. 

            "So you've got the taste, huh?" She only nodded. "Hard habit to kick." She glanced at him.

            "So you have, then," she said slowly. He licked his lips, and she suddenly found him intriguing. "Why?" She could have sworn he cringed. "What was her name?" His jaw tightened, and she sighed. "Sorry. None of my business." She cleared her throat, and pointed at a dark hallway. "That's the way to the hole. There's a door at the end, and it's downhill from there."

            "What's their game?"

            "Waist-high frigid water for 24 hours. Then they drain it and let you shiver dry for three more days and it's back home," she gritted through clenched teeth. He smirked.

            "Any special no-nos?"

            "Talkin' to Art and playing with the guards and leaving them alive," she said with a shrug. "Depends on the guards though. Some of them take it like men, some of them don't. And, as I'm sure you found at Butcher Bay, some of them really enjoy it here. Belong here." He nodded. She shrugged. "That's it. The rest of this place is cell blocks."

            "So the canteen's 24/7, huh?"

            "Like Red says, though, voluntarily off limits after lockdown." Her eyes narrowed, and then the lights flickered. "Shit. Run." He looked at her quizzically. "Fucking run!" she yelled over her shoulder. He took off after her, chasing her down a maze of hallways until she ducked into Z 39, slamming the barred doors shut behind him. With hurried hands, she wrapped a chain around two bars to secure it and finished with a padlock.

            "Padlock?"

            "Every now and then Red can track some useful shit down." She shrugged, collapsing onto her bed. An animalistic growl echoed down the halls and she sighed. He wasn't sure if it was relief or exasperation. "Most times it's shit the guards drop." The lights suddenly went out, and she swore. "Let the games begin," she said flatly. Odd sounds echoed off the stone walls, every now and then a rush of air tickling the damp skin of the inmates. "Never seen what they are," she said quietly. "Don't really want to know." A human scream, and one more cell bunk was vacant. "Red?" she called.

            "Yeah?" he yelled back, somewhere down the hall.

            "Who bit it?"

            "Sounded like Bowser, but I don't know." She sighed, shaking her head, her eyes slowly adjusting as much as they could to the darkness.

            "You okay?" she finally called out again.

            "Yeah. Twosy ducked in at the last minute, too," came Red's response. "Guess we're having a sleep over." She snickered.

            "Who's doubling up?" Riddick grinned, biting back a crude comment.

            "Twosy and Balls." She cackled, an evil but surprisingly comfortable laugh.

            "Hey Balls?"

            "Shut the fuck up, Sarge." Another wicked laugh.

            "So explain the nicknames," Riddick asked, lowering himself onto his bunk. She snickered.

            "Red is just red. All the time. Got teased when he first got here," she said with a chuckle. "Everyone wanted to know why he was always blushing. Fucking hothead. Balls got thumped picking up someone's soap and squealed like a pig." Riddick laughed. "Just kinda stuck after that." Shook her head. "Big ones, too. And Art's the resident tattoo artist. Wouldn't recommend it though. Not clean, and, well, he's not the sort of inmate people like us should associate ourselves with."

            "People like us…" Riddick trailed off, asking without asking.

            "We know how things work. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours but don't fucking cross me or I'll rip you in two kind of relationships." He nodded. That's how things were. The right sort of convict, anyway. "And then there's Art. Sleazy mother fucker, he is. In one ear and out his mouth to the closest hard ass guard." She snorted in disgust. "Hell, I don't even like playing with the friendly guards. A guard's a fucking guard."

            "Good call," Riddick commented quietly. The more she talked, the more he liked her as a fellow convict. Still didn't trust her. He didn't plan on trusting anyone ever again. "And Twosy?" She thought for a moment, her expression pensive.

            "I don't know, actually," she said slowly. "I think he's just always been Twosy."

            "What about you?" She looked at him for a moment. "Sarge implies military, or something. What's the story?"

            "A long one, that's what the story is," she said, lounging back on the lumpy mattress. She sniffed and made a face. "Good thing showers are in a few days." He snickered. "Fucking reek."

            "All we got is time," he said quietly. She sighed, nodding.

            "Army Rangers." His eyebrow rose. "Joined up when I was fifteen, ran with them for a year. Got some training, and my wiring got crossed," she said, pointing to her temple with a fiendish grin. "Had a body count before recruitment, but they didn't catch on until a week after I was promoted. Tried and convicted by Military Tribunal, and then the dirt came out." Her eyes glazed over, and he removed his goggles to watch her more closely. "I knew I was already walking down shit row, so I played up the municipal trial as much as I could. Found out about the real body count, minus a few missing people they couldn't track down, and I was convicted on thirty-six counts, excluding combat kills." He whistled. "Several counts of mutilation and other aberrations," she added with a shrug. "I don't remember exactly. Either way, though, I was done." She sighed, a smile starting to break through the haze in her eyes. "And the thing that really pisses me off was the dishonorable discharge." He laughed, a rumbling, echoing sound, but it was cut off quickly by a growling outside the bars of their cell. She stared at him, watching the silver of his eyes glint from the heat of whatever was watching them. "They do that sometimes," she said flatly. "Pisses them off they can't get in here."

            "Looks like it," he returned.

            "Glad I can't see it."

            "What's the going rate now?" he asked, turning those silver orbs on her.

            "What, for a shine?" No answer, so yes. "Last I heard it was 30." She shrugged. "I can't save though."

            "What?"

            "If I have them, I'll smoke them. Most I've ever gotten together is 25, and then I got pissed off at Red and cut it down to 5. Worked back up to 23 right now, so I gotta check on that. Well, hell, 20 because of that God damn bet."

            "Inflation's a bitch." She snickered.

            "What'd yours cost?"

            "20."

            "Shit," she spat. "You know, I could probably get it for free." His eyebrow rose. "Well, as far as prison currency is concerned." She sighed. "For everyone else, anyway." He grunted. "I don't do that shit though."

            "So you worked your way to the top of the food chain without using your talents, huh?" She smirked, but the smile didn't linger.

            "Brute force works better," she quipped. "Lasts longer, too."

            "Glad you knew that from the start," he said quietly. "Seen it happen too much to recommend it."

            "Glad we have an understanding," she said, meeting and holding his eyes, face set.

            "Got nothing to worry about," he said quietly, keeping the gaze. "No offense, but I'm not on the market." She smirked.

            "Good to know." He watched, sensing she was extremely uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had turned. "I consider myself an asexual human being. Everybody here knows that. As long as you do, too, we won't have any problems."

            "I'll take your word for it."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

            Sarge woke suddenly, popping out of bed, shiv in hand and taking a defensive stance. Riddick turned slowly, eyebrow poised as he took a sip from a mug. She sighed and fell back onto the bed, closing her eyes again as she dropped the shiv to the floor with a clatter.

            "I see you found your way to and from the canteen okay," she mumbled, draping a forearm over her eyes. He only smiled. "What's on the menu today?"

            "Slop." She snickered.

            "Again? Hell, we had that yesterday."

            "Hey, Sarge. Heard you were lookin' for me." She lifted her arm and sighed, pushing herself off the bed.

            "Riddick, this is Twosy. Twosy, Riddick." They nodded at each other – that nod only men pull off well. "You got the shit?"

            "Doesn't look too bad now, hon." Twosy was older than Riddick would have expected. Probably the only reason Sarge let him get away with calling her 'hon'. The man's hand shot out and grasped Sarge's chin, turning it slightly to the side. "You did a good job stitching that bad boy up." She smirked, glancing up at Riddick as Twosy inspected her handiwork. "Hell, you should work for Doc." A snicker. "Yeah, I got it. Want me to hang onto it for safe keeping?"

            "No, I'll take it," she said quickly, pulling her face from his grip. He nodded and fished through hidden pockets, finally producing a small bottle of antiseptic. Riddick bit back a grin. All prison deals sounded like a drug trade, even if it was for something as innocent as a pair of socks. "Thanks, Twosy," she added, sending him a grateful smile. Twosy nodded at Riddick, his eyes asking her something, and she answered by shaking her head. Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Not yet," she said quietly.

            "How long's it been?" She sighed, rubbing her forehead absentmindedly.

            "Little over three weeks." Before his eyes, she weakened. Evidently Twosy was a confidante, their conversation coded because, even though Riddick was present, this cell was the safest place to talk.

            "'Bout time, then, huh?" She didn't answer.

            "Not now, Twosy, please," she whispered, glancing at Riddick and then Twosy before focusing on the ground again. Riddick cleared his throat.

            "We done here?" he asked quietly. Twosy sighed, looking Riddick over and then nodding. He gave Sarge's arm a squeeze, and turned to leave. Sarge glanced over her shoulder at Riddick and left as well. Riddick sighed. _So much drama_, he thought, a sour expression spoiling his handsome face. _Never ends. Doesn't matter if it's a chick inmate or not. There's always too much fuckin' drama._

            He stayed in the cell for a while, working on a shiv of his own. She'd offered him one she'd barely begun, an early sign of a prison-environment bond. It was an important step, just the offer. Didn't matter whether or not he took it, or how he turned her down. The offer itself, and the fact that he considered it for a while meant they were on good terms. The lights flickered, and he glanced around, snatching up the chain and padlock, waiting.

            "Sarge?" No answer. "Fuck. Sarge?" Nothing but the cries of the other inmates running to their cells. He wrapped the chain around the bars, holding it tight but refraining from locking it, just in case she was running a little late. He called out again, hearing the animals' howling echo through the prison maze.

            "Hold it!" she yelled back, and he heard heavy footsteps thudding down the hallway. She came to a screeching halt in front of the door, panting. "Open," she commanded. He smirked twirling the loose end of the chain, stalling. "God damn it, Riddick, open my fucking door." Metal scraped down the hallway, and her eyes grew wide, claws clattering against the stone floor. "Now."

            "You didn't say the magic word," he drawled. She froze, turning to lean against the door as the lights went out.

            "Riddick?" Her voice was shaky, and she gasped as she fell backwards as the cell door opened, clanging shut so he could chain and lock it. She trembled, still sprawled on the floor, chest heaving. The lights flickered back on, and she glanced up, clambering onto her bed and balling up into a tangle of limbs, shaking her head. He watched, a bemused expression turning his lips. She was whispering something, but he couldn't tell what it was. He walked over to her bed and sat next to her, finally hearing the words she was repeating over and over. "Not today." His eyebrow rose and keys jangled, drawing his attention to the door, where a guard now stood. His face darkened, and he stood to his full height.

            "Back down, convict," the guard said, drawing a tazer from his pocket. "Your side of the cell," he commanded, and Riddick complied, his eyes lingering on the small stash of shivs Sarge had hidden at the foot of her bed. Not a single one was completed yet. _Fuck._ "Turn. Place your hands on the wall." Another guard appeared behind the one ordering Riddick around, prompting a snarl. "Good boy. Stay." He watched over his shoulder as the second guard snatched Sarge's wrist, throwing her into the wall.

            "You know how this works, Sarge," he growled, patting her down and tossing her array of weapons on the bed. "Got a collection this time." The guard watching Riddick was smart enough not to look, only ask that it be confiscated.

            "Shouldn't treat women that way," Riddick gruffed, eyes flashing at the guard, who only snickered.

            "Ain't a woman when she's in prison," he scoffed, Riddick shook his head, focusing on the wall. "You'll learn that with time." Sarge was chained and hoisted over a guard's shoulder, taken from the room without a fight from her. The door was slammed shut and Riddick sat on the bed, reaching out for the shiv he'd been working on. Red appeared in the hallway, pushing the door open with a creak. "Lockdown was early today," Riddick said, grinding away at the hunk of metal in his hand. Red glanced around the room, finally focusing on Riddick, who looked up slowly out from under furled eyebrows. "Want to tell me what the fuck is going on?"

            "Have to ask her," Red said slowly, sitting on Sarge's bed. "No one really knows what happens." Riddick shook his head, turning his attention back to his shiv-making.

            "How often does it happen?"

            "Haven't figured out a pattern yet," Red answered, shaking his head slowly. "And she won't talk."

            "She doesn't have to." Red looked up at him, eyebrow arched. "Twosy knows."

            "Twosy knows everything."

            "Ah," Riddick said, setting the shiv in progress down on the bed next to him and leaning back, folding his hands over his chest, "but she talks to him."

            "Really."

            "Learn to be observant and you'll see it," Riddick said with a shrug. "But don't go asking Twosy. You'll just piss her off." Red nodded.

            "That's easily done."

            "You know," Riddick said, cocking his head. "I think you think you understand her, don't you." Demand, not question. Red only looked at him. "You never will." The expression darkened, as did the red flush of his skin. "None of us ever will." Riddick was only stating fact – no male convict could ever understand what Sarge had been through to get to where she was in the prison hierarchy. Riddick wasn't sure she'd been completely honest about using brute force. Entirely possible, but not probable.

            "Why do you care?" Red asked, voice tight. "You don't know her."

            "And neither do you."

            "The hell—"

            "You think you do," Riddick interjected. "But you don't. She won't let you."

            "So you've been here all of a day and now you think you know this place like you know Butcher Bay?" Riddick only shrugged, picking up the shiv next to him to shave down his fingernails. "You don't know shit about us. Just because you share a cell don't make you and Sarge friends."

            "There's being friends and being allies, Red," Riddick said slowly, concentrating intently on his grooming. "Me and Sarge? We're allies."

            "Well, we're friends." Riddick shook his head.

            "Don't be stupid, Red. That'll just get you killed sooner or later." Red watched as Riddick rose, dropping the half-finished knife on the bed. Red watched him disappear down the hall and rose, heading off to find someone to occupy his time.

            Slop. There was no other word for it. No one knew what was in it and no one dared to ask. Riddick played with it for a while, debating on whether he was hungry enough yet to actually consume this shit, finally deciding he was. He stared off into space, his thoughts returning grudgingly to Jack. He wouldn't be here now if he'd just swallowed his pride and listened to her. But no, he just had to go collect on that fucking debt. Gunney probably turned him in, shady bastard.

            She'd been gone for hours. He'd choked down the slop and headed off to find a dark corner to shit in. Evidently this place didn't believe in bathrooms. Hell, those things they let out on lockdown were probably sewage control as much as population control. When he returned to Z 39, she still hadn't been back, even for a short visit. He had the feeling he needed to find a brew. With his new shiv now finished, he headed off to find Twosy.

            Riddick tracked him down, after asking a few people, and leaned against the door to his cell, watching the older man pour over a ragged science fiction novel. The man was unflinching. Dangerous trait in a slam. Dead to the world, as long as he had his book.

            "Do you have a question for me, Riddick, or are you just intrigued that a fellow prisoner is educated enough to read?" Riddick only smirked. "Care to sit?" He obliged, sitting on the bed across from the man. Twosy set the book down, leaning forward expectantly.

            "I have a feeling Sarge is gonna want a pick-me-up whenever she gets back."

            "She won't have the stomach for it, son." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "What do you think happens when she's taken like that?"

            "I know what happens." Twosy just looked at him. "I've served under Anders before, I _know_ what happens."

            "The Sarge is Anders' neice, friend." Riddick's eyes darted around as his mind digested this bit of information. "You don't know this, understand me?" He nodded slowly, watching the man carefully as he continued. "She was sent to Butcher Bay for her crimes, and was content to stay there and serve her term. The good warden heard what happened, realized that the Sarge, whose name I will not divulge at this time for reasons you couldn't possibly understand, was actually blood, and had her transferred." Twosy leaned back in his chair, lighting a precious cigarette. "He'd not seen her in quite some time, you see, and didn't recognize her; thought he'd made a mistake. But, at that time, this prison, affectionately known as Asphyxia by those of us who live here and others who serve it, namely mercenaries, was just getting started. Being a mere year old, it was starving for inmates with which to make a name as a maximum prison. So here she remained incarcerated."

            "You got a big way of saying things, old man," Riddick said with a smirk. Twosy only shrugged with a smile, taking another long drag off the cigarette.

            "In any case, her identity was authenticated, and she was stolen away in the night on sporadic occasions." Riddick took a breath, but Twosy shook his head. "There is no pattern, Richard. Don't try."

            "How long?"

            "I was just getting ready to go pick her up." Riddick's eyebrow rose.

            "Pick her up?"

            "The top of the stairs. She'll be dumped, half-conscious." Twosy sighed. "I can't keep doing this, Richard." _Since when did people start calling me 'Richard'?_ "I don't trust Red." Twosy's pale gray eyes met Riddick's shine. "And there's no one else that knows the system enough to get her out." Riddick's brows furled. "She can't stay here, Richard. She'll break, and that will be a tragic day for us all."

            "I can't do anything about this, Twosy, and you know it." The old man sighed, tired eyes closing in defeat.

            "You've escaped from numerous triples, Riddick."

            "By myself, yes. I work alone."

            "I heard about Jack," Twosy said quietly. Riddick's eyes closed, jaw tightening as he dropped his head into his hands. "I didn't know her, but she affected you." Riddick didn't respond. "You let her in, Richard. You can let Sarge in."

            "I can't let anyone in," Riddick growled. A door slammed somewhere, and Twosy stood quickly, running to the door.

            "We have to go now," he said quickly. "Stay in the shadows. No one will know where she was if we can get to her first.

            "I'll go," Riddick said gruffly. "You stay here. No, meet us at her cell." Funny – he didn't even consider it his cell, too, yet.

"You know the way?" Riddick gave him a look. Twosy nodded and headed off toward the Z block. Riddick moved swiftly in the darkness, pausing until the passageways were clear before continuing forward. He neared the stairs and looked over his shoulder before starting up the stone stairwell, proceeding silently. She was just outside the door, crumpled in a quivering bundle of abused human. He picked her up, descending the stairs and returning to their block, watching Twosy's expression fall as he laid her down gently on the bed.

"Now what?" She was in a daze, rocking herself slowly, still trembling. Her hair was a mess, and she jumped way from Riddick's touch as he tucked a stray chunk of the dark strands behind her ear.

"Now we wait," Twosy said solemnly. "She'll snap out of it eventually, hopefully in time for showers."

"Twos?" They both looked up to see Red standing in the doorway, staring down at Sarge.

"Go, Red." He just kept looking at her, fists clenching and unclenching. "Now," Twosy repeated. "Please, just go."

"Twosy—" Twosy stood, forcing Red out into the hallway, leaving Riddick to just scowl. He heard bits of the conversation: "He can't care for her like I can, she doesn't trust you with this, what's he got that I don't, it's not like that." _Blah, blah. Insecure fucker_. Riddick snorted and shook his head. Twosy returned a while later.

"Can I leave you to her?" he asked quietly, glancing down at Sarge with a concerned blink.

"She'll be fine." Twosy eyed him, and then nodded.

"I won't be far." Riddick nodded. "I know a man on C block that brews. I'll bring some back, just in case. Hide it under your bed, in the corner against the walls, and it will stay cold enough to keep for a while." With that, the little man was gone. He watched over her for hours, finally chaining and locking the door, well before lockdown. She hardly moved, shifting her position only slightly when she did, trembling the entire time. He knelt down in front of her bed, resting his chin next to her arm.

"You in there?" He reached out, taking her hand in his. Her trembling increased, eyes squeezing shut. "Hey, it's me." She shook her head. "It's Riddick." A small whimper. He sighed heavily. Nothing like comforting Jack after a violent nightmare. No, this was real, unlike Jack's dreams. Jack. It was his turn to scrunch his eyes shut and squeeze her hand gently. His knees ached, but he stayed, sleep falling over him fitfully. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

            "Riddick?" He opened his eyes, wondering where his feet were. She repeated his name quietly. He muttered something indecipherable, coughing so hard his lungs rattled. She pried his fingers from hers.

            "You okay?" he asked, voice thick and gruffy. Another coughing fit racked his body, and he finished with a pitiful wheeze, groaning painfully.

            "You need to cover up," she commanded. "Vaccinations are kicking in. Decon shit, too." He coughed again, finally getting something loose and hacking it across the room into the hallway. Growling ensued.

            "Still out there, I guess." She nodded, pulling the covers tighter around her chin, stifling a yawn. "Who hit you?" he asked, eyeing the bruise surfacing on her cheek. She shrugged, closing her eyes.

            "No telling. My feet are still down there, right?" He made a show of searching for them and nodded, a wry smile interrupted by another coughing convulsion. "Seriously. Get in bed and cover up." He stood on shaky, numb legs and stumbled over to his bed, flopping down, moving again to search for the small canister of booze Twosy had dropped off earlier. "You don't want that," she warned, cringing as she sat up.

            "Like hell I don't."

            "You'll cough harder." He shrugged his response. Her eyebrow rose as he took a long swig, barely choking it down before he coughed again, holding his stomach as he doubled over. "I told you."

            "What the fuck did they do?" he asked, struggling to form words over his coughs, finally sighing and collapsing back onto the pillow.

            "It's the mixture. They're not supposed to give us all of them at once, especially not with the decon gas, but they do anyway." She shrugged. "It's easier than keeping track of who needs what." He grunted. "You know," she started, pausing for a long while before continuing. "I never thought they'd put someone in here with me." Another violent cough.

            "Christ." She smiled weakly.

            "It only lasts a couple days," she offered. "Depending. You should live." He snickered.

            "Well, I should hope so," he wheezed.

            "Just stay warm and drink a lot of water. Makes it easier to cough up." He nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is Riddick your real name?" His eyes opened slowly, focusing on her for a while before answering.

            "I don't know. Hell, I don't even know if I was ever given one to start with," he said with a shrug.

            "Really?" No answer. "What happened?" No answer. She cringed as he coughed again. "Here," she said, biting back a groan as she stood. Her legs trembled under her, throbbing painfully with each movement. He watched her reach under her bed, in the cool spot, and pull out a medium-sized canteen, walking it over to him. She held it out, and he took it, screwing the lid off and sniffing. "It's water." He nodded, throwing it back. She reached out for nothing in particular, hovering over him. "Slowly. Drink slowly." His eyebrow rose, and she sighed. "Will you just fucking listen to me for once?" She barely got the sentence out when he hacked and wheezed some more, making her jump forward to keep him from coughing himself off the bed and onto the cold stone floor. A gravelly groan, and she pushed him back onto the bed. "Lie on your side," she commanded, helping him back under the covers, pulling them up over him.

            "Don't fuss over me, Sarge," he said, suddenly laughing at how ridiculous that sentence sounded with her name.

            "You can thank me later," she retorted. "Are you cold?"

            "Not really." Her eyebrow rose, and he sighed. "Okay, maybe a little." She nodded and shuffled back over to her bed, pulling the heavier blanket off, throwing it over him. "What's your real name?" he asked quietly, shifting under the covers.

            "You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine," she said flatly.

            "I don't know mine. Richard B. Riddick is all I've ever known my name to be," he insisted. She shook her head, dropping onto her cot with a heavy sigh.

            "Dakota Corbett."

            "Dakota," he repeated, judging how the name fit her. "So, Dakota, where did you come from?"

            "You answer first."

            "I told you, I don't know."

            "What's the first place you remember being?" she pressed.

            "Bolaris," he said flatly. "First kill."

            "Okay, so you were born, in a sense, on Bolaris. Then what?" He groaned, prompting another coughing fit. He had to admit, it was a lot easier to cough on his side, but it still hurt.

            "Just hopped all over the place until someone tracked me down, and then hopped from prison to prison. Your turn," he said quietly, his throat suddenly sore.

            "I was born on Helion Five. Mom was born and bred on Furia, and Dad was from Gryphon."

            "What a combination," Riddick laughed. She shrugged.

            "I think I turned out okay." He laughed harder, spawning yet another coughing marathon. She sighed. "Enough talking. You need to rest."

            "Honestly, are you okay?" Her eyes snapped to his.

            "Does it fucking look like I'm okay?" He sighed.

            "You wanna talk about it?"

            "No." Rapid fire answer.

            "What, you're gonna go talk to Twosy?" Her eyebrow rose, eyes suddenly angry. He knew he was provoking her. He wanted to. He wanted her to get so pissed off she'd stop taking it and fight back.

            "Why the fuck do you care who I talk to about it? I'm sure as shit not gonna talk to you, you fucking ignoramus." He smiled.

            "Turn that anger on them next time. You're letting them take advantage of you."

            "If those things weren't out there right now, I'd leave and never come back here," she snapped.

            "Yes you would," he said gently, watching her eyes fall away from his.

            "Tell me about her," she said after a while. "What was she like?"

            "Who?" She noticed his voice was tight and strained. Could have been all the coughing, but probably not.

            "Jack," she whispered. He inhaled sharply, the sound of the name stinging still open wounds.

            "No," he rumbled, burying his face in his pillow.

            "I met her once." He lifted his head, the veins straining in his forehead. "At a port on Mena." She shook her head, recalling the incident. "She just kinda latched on to me for no apparent reason. I was running, and I guess she knew it. She followed me into a bar and snuck in the back. Just sat next to me in the booth and struck up a conversation. Big, green eyes, angelic face. Couldn't have been more than fifteen."

            "She was twelve." His voice was small, and he coughed again, lightly this time, as though he were choking something back.

            "I told her she didn't want to follow me. That I was dangerous and had mercs on my tail. Those green eyes just lit up, like risking everything was just her biggest turn on or something." She sighed. "She followed me back to my hotel and I couldn't say no. Stayed the night with me. I swear to fucking God, Riddick, she whispered your name in her sleep. And I hated to do it, but I left before she was awake. Good thing though," she said with a heavy sigh. "That's when they hauled me in to Butcher Bay."

            "She was a strong kid," he whispered. She shifted to look at him, even though she couldn't really see him.

            "She loved you, Riddick," she said softly.

            "I know she did." Another violent coughing spree. He sighed.

            "As soon as I heard we were getting a big fish, I knew." Her voice was strained as well. "I didn't mind too much they put you in here," she admitted with a small shrug. "You're too fragile right now to be in with another asshole." He snickered.

            "I'm a lot of things, but fragile ain't one of them," he scoffed. She sat up, searching his vicinity for those silver orbs, but they were hidden. He opened his eyes when he heard her stand, watching her walk to his bed and sit next to him.

            "You loved her, Riddick." He sighed, pulling the pillow over his face, but she snatched it away, beaning him and recoiling before he could take it back. Her voice was low – no possibility of the conversation echoing so someone else could hear. "Just fucking admit it already."

            "Yes, okay? I did." He rubbed his eyes. "I do, Sarge. I still love her." She sighed, reaching out to squeeze his thigh before standing. "And since we're making admissions here," he started, watching her freeze. "What's your story?"

            "What do you mean?" she asked quietly, returning to her bed. He didn't reply, so she inhaled sharply, letting it out slowly. "When I was ten, my parents died. I found them. Never found out who did it, but it was brutal." Her face set, eyes staring into nothingness again as the memories came flooding back. "I ran away before they could take me to a home. Lived on the streets for a while. Took up kickboxing when I was eleven." She sighed, shaking her head. "Taught me how to fight, among other things young girls learn on their own." Riddick cringed. "I took it for a year, and when I got fed up, he got bludgeoned with a rusty pipe in an alley during a thunderstorm." There was a touch of pride in her voice. "Didn't get the taste for blood until a few bodies later, when some asshole tried the same shit. Backed me into a corner in some shit hole alley. But what he didn't know was that I knew how to make a shiv." Riddick grinned. "Accidently found the sweet spot and it was all over." She sighed. "Joined up with the Army Rangers after dabbling in some hit work and you know the rest."

            "So where does Anders play into this?" The room fell deadly silent. He propped himself up on an elbow, another coughing fit throwing him onto his back again.

            "I have a taste for blood, he has a taste for relatives," she said quietly.

            "I'm sorry," he responded.

            "Go to sleep."

            Riddick woke to the sound of small grunts. _She is not fucking in here right now,_ he told himself with a groan. Her boots hit the ground with a thud.

            "Sleep well?" He forced his eyes open to reveal a refreshed Sarge, big fish front in place. Her prison issue orange scrubs hung off her hips, top tossed on the bed, leaving her in a stained wifebeater. Sweat glistened off her body, chest heaving from her recent set of pull ups. "Feeling better yet?" He just groaned and rolled over. She shrugged and hoisted herself up into the rafters, pulling herself up far enough to tangle her legs around the metal bars and start her inverted situps. "We can take you to see Doc a little later. He's expecting you." Riddick mumbled something. "He checks all the new fish out once the sickness sets in, you know." Her words were broken by gasps. "Might be able to give you something, if he has anything." He turned back to watch her. She was a lot stronger than she looked fully clothed. She did a little flip and landed with another thump, stretching her arms overhead lazily. "Get your ass up, Riddick. Gotta get some food into you." He moaned, so she marched over to him and yanked the covers back.

            "Get the fuck off me," he moaned, reaching for the blankets.

            "Riddick, get your punk ass off that fucking bed right now." The tone in her voice made him turn, eyebrow raised angrily.

            "What the fuck do you thing you're doing?" he rasped, instantly breaking into a violent cough.

            "Hell, Riddick," she groaned. "Listen to yourself. You sound like shit, and there's no reasoning with a sick convict. Get yourself up, and I'll take you down to doc's." He sighed.

            "I'll be fine."

            "Okay," she said slowly. "I'll go get doc and have him come here and take a look at you." He turned to protest, but she was gone, so he just swore instead. 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

            "Yeah, it's one of the better cases I've seen." Riddick's eyebrow rose, and then his face twisted as another hard coughing fit took over. God, he hated being sick. Hardly ever happened, but when it did, he crashed hard.

            "Better meaning worse?" Sarge asked, still propped against the wall, arms crossed over her chest as she watched Doc examine Riddick.

            "Worse," the doctor gruffed. "You're just gonna have to wait it out, big man," he said with a shrug. "My shipment of goods didn't come in."

            "Twosy fart out on ya?"

            "You know better, Sarge," Doc scolded. "Twosy's the most dependable thief in this hellhole and you know it."

            "Gee, thanks," she said with a sarcastic grin.

            "And you, my dear," Doc started, rewarded with a cold scowl from Sarge, "didn't bring me back anything either." She sighed.

            "Too conked out," she muttered.

            "You can usually snatch something in transport," he continued, brow quirked.

            "Like I said, too conked out."

            "Musta been bad."

            "Drop it, Doc." Her voice was suddenly harsh, the words forced through gritted teeth. Riddick sighed.

            "So what's the deal, Doc?" Riddick finally asked, voice raspier than usual. "Take two Tylenol and call you in the morning?"

            "Funny," the doc snickered. "You got yourself a comic this time, Sarge."

            "Yeah, he's a real fuckin' hoot," she mumbled.

            "No, Riddick. Just drink a lot of water, piss in a dark corner, and stay covered up. Talk to Dirk. Sarge knows him. He should be able to track down a heavier prison issue for you," Doc said, regarding Riddick's uniform. Riddick nodded, stifling a yawn. "Get him back into bed," he instructed Sarge. "You come back and see me when you got the goods." She nodded with a slight cringe, and Riddick smirked. _Teach her for making bets when she's got a savings goal_, he thought. A hoarse groan echoed off the walls as he stood slowly, following Sarge back down the maze of hallways to their cell.

            "I'll be back," she said quietly, once he was tucked safely under his blankets. He watched her tuck an array of makeshift weapons in various locations with an arched brow, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail as she left the room. _Nice hiding places,_ he thought with a smirk.

            "What'd the good doctor say?" Riddick opened his eyes and groaned as Twosy arranged himself on Sarge's cot.

            "The usual."

            "Ah, yes. Plenty of fluids, piss in dark corner, and stay warm." Riddick snickered. "Best advice anyone could ever give you, even under the best of circumstances." Twosy's shoulders twitched in an awkward shrug. "It goes away with time."

            "Just the mixture, Sarge said," Riddick commented, watching Twosy nod slowly.

            "They haven't gotten the ratios quite right yet, but it's gotten better. It's mostly the decontamination fog they use. Not meant to be used in a closed room, but they do it anyway. More secure, in theory."

            "I figured it was all the drugs."

            "Well, that's another possibility," Twosy granted with a nod of the head to the side. "Some people don't take the sedatives very well. They don't last long, but they pack quite a mean punch."

            "No shit," Riddick moaned, suddenly annoyed by a twitching muscle in the back of his shoulder. He swatted at it, succeeding only in making it worse.

            "She's taken to you, you know," Twosy offered quietly. "That doesn't happen often."

            "No promises, Twosy," Riddick moaned. "I told you that. Hell, I don't even know if it's worth the fucking effort any more."

            "The great Richard Riddick finally giving up and accepting his fate in the penal system," Twosy said with a muted chuckle. "I never thought that would happen."

            "I'm getting too old to keep trying," Riddick said with a dismissive shrug. "Prison life is comfortable."

            "Prison life is anything but comfortable, Richard, and you should be damned for even speaking that way," the old man snapped.

            "There's nothing on the outside for me anymore," Riddick pressed, his insistence only half-hearted.

            "The death of a loved one is no reason to give up hope."

            "Hope is for pussies."

            "You're a strong soul, Riddick. The day you give up is the day we're all doomed." Riddick's eyebrow rose.

            "Don't make me out to be a fuckin' savior, old man."

            "Merely an idol, Richard. As long as there's one convict out there that keeps fighting the system, there's hope left in us all."

            "No reason for hope. Just gets you killed," Riddick sighed.

            "What would Jack say to that?" Twosy nearly crawled out of the room at the look Riddick sent him, but didn't. "She held out hope you would return to her, and you did. She held out hope she could get through that thick skull of yours and open up your heart, and she did. She held out hope that everything she risked herself for would pay off in the end, and it did." Riddick shook his head, hunkering down in the covers in an attempt to get Twosy's voice to go away. "She held out hope that you were still capable of loving, and you were."

            "What the fuck do you know about Jack anyway?" Riddick finally exploded, sending the blankets flying off the bed.

            "An old friend of mine still writes now and again," he said quietly, fishing out a small stack of crumpled papers and flipping through them. "A mutual friend, I believe, from a long time ago." Riddick glanced down at the package Twosy held out to him, nostrils flaring with the remaining anger. The convict just shrugged and placed the letters on Sarge's bed, giving them a gentle pat with a somewhat longing gaze. He stood slowly, eyes meeting Riddick's again before leaving the man standing there in the center of the room, glancing between the cell door and the papers left on the bed. Once the hallway was quiet again, Riddick sighed, rubbing his forehead as he reached for them.

            _Dear friend: I was sad to hear of your incarceration, but as a man of faith, I believe that, unfortunately, justice has been served. My prayers are with you, old friend, and I hope your good character remains in tact. _

_            I have just reached Helion Prime after a long and fateful voyage, finally arriving in New Mecca. What a Hajj it turned out to be! By now I'm sure you've heard of the crash of the ship known as the Hunter-Gratzner, and, in a way, I hope you'd not heard that I'd been traveling upon that cursed transport when it crashed on a planet known as T2. As I'm sure you are expecting, though the situation worsened as time pressed on, the good always prevails. _

_            Though I lost my three beloved sons, I gained a daughter. Her given name is Jacqueline Phillips, though she prefers to be called Jack. We presumed she was a boy, but in the wake of such tragic events as took place on T2, her true identity was revealed in order for her to be better protected._

_            Perhaps you had heard a convict called Richard Riddick was aboard the ship as well. Were it not for him, you would not be holding this letter, as he saved our lives. Allah works in mysterious ways, no? I do not know where he plans to go, nor what he plans to do, but I am eternally grateful for his change of heart. He cares so much for Jack, and she for him. I only hope that one day she will understand why he felt he must leave her, even after he let her stay with him for a short while. She is in so much pain right now, but it is all for the best._

_            I will write again, soon, old friend. Allah be with you._

- _Imam_

Riddick sighed. He should have known. Twosy just knew too much. He reached out and picked up the next slip of paper.

            _Dear friend: Jack graduated from high school today. A proud but bittersweet moment. Hassan would have been her age, had he survived. I am so delighted, however, that Jack has remained in my home for as long as she has. When Mr. Riddick returned her to my supervision, I feared she would go after him. I'm certain she considered it, at least for a while. _

_            She plans to go to technical school in the following weeks. I shall miss her, but she is beginning a life of her own, and for that I am doubly proud. It was my greatest fear that she would descend into the ways of her hero, but she's chosen an honest path. He left a good impression on her – that she must be strong and independent, which makes me feel her survival is inevitable. I only wish she would embrace her true character and leave this phase of deceit. She still insists upon being called Jack, and concealing herself in men's clothing. A comfort from the past, perhaps._

_            I wish you could meet her, as I'm sure you would enjoy her character. Though she can be rather crude and a test of my patience at times, she has a good heart, and a resilient spirit. _

_            I will write again soon, old friend. Allah be with you._

- _Imam_

Riddick closed his eyes, feeling her lips on his, that sparkle in her eye. Imam was so proud she chose a life unlike Riddick's, and he dragged her back into it. It was his fault she died. Back into the mud that was his universe.

            _Dear friend: The house is so quiet and empty without my Jack. She came to be a family to me, and without her presence, my surroundings have turned cold once again. Mr. Riddick surprised me with a visit yesterday, inquiring about Jack's location. Allah forgive me, I lied. I'm sure he knew it – Mr. Riddick is an excellent judge of character; an odd trait for a man of his reputation, it would seem. Deep down, however, I do believe there is still some light in him, perhaps rekindled by my young Jack. _

_            His eyes are usually cold and emotionless, but a mention of Jack sparks something – what exactly that emotion is I doubt I could ever understand, but the simple idea she touched his heart somehow gives me hope. Perhaps you will meet him one day and see what I see in him. He pretends to be heartless, but there must be a place in him for even a fleeting emotion. His life was, as far as I could gather, anything but blessed, and though he's chosen his path, there is a good man hiding in his hardened soul. _

_            He cares for her. _

_            I know one day he will find her, and I shudder to think how she will regard him when he does. Perhaps their fate is together. If that is the case, I pray she opens his heart to humanity and cultivates the good in him._

_            I will write again soon, old friend. Allah be with you._

- _Imam_

"What are you reading?" He glanced up at the doorway, then back down at the

papers in his hands. She sighed and plopped onto her bed.

            "Who bit it?" She laughed lightly.

            "You smelled it, huh?" He only looked over his shoulder at her. "Yeah, uh, business called."

            "Dangerous field down here, Sarge," he commented, turning the paper over into the already read stack and lifting a new sheet of paper. "Don't get caught."

            "Don't worry. The evidence will be gone after lockdown."

            "Convenient."

            "Seriously, Riddick. What are you reading?" she pressed, propping her chin on a hand to look at him.

            "Letters." Her eyebrow rose. "Twosy thought I'd be interested."

            "Are you?" No answer.

            Dear friend: Jack called me this afternoon, crying. I was heartbroken. She told me a man had visited her workplace and inquired about hiring someone, and he had Mr. Riddick's voice. She was so upset it wasn't him. The man has a chilling voice, David, one could hardly forget it easily. I would never have believed two people could share a voice so dark. She said his eyes didn't fit, however. I'm sure you can deduce why, living a life so similar to his in a prison.

_            I couldn't comfort her. She aches for him so terribly, and it scares me so. She's only twenty-one, and is convinced they are meant to be together. I am torn on what advice I should give. The human in me wants her to find him and bring out what good still resides there, but the father in me wants to protect her from him. Allah will guide her._

_            Old friend, how I wish you could respond to my letters. It disappoints me that the authorities will not allow you to have mutual contact with the outside world. I do miss your babble. _

_            I will write again soon, old friend. Allah be with you._

- _Imam_

"I heard a nasty rumor we get showered tomorrow." Her voice cut into his concentration again. He sighed and turned the letter over, restacking the collection. He'd finish them later. She sighed. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Not really," he responded, reaching for his canteen of water. She watched the muscles in his throat contract as he swallowed slowly, eyeing her.

"Fights are tonight, in case you're interested," she said with a bored shrug.

            "Fights?"

            "Yeah. Every now and then a bunch of people get together for a melee or whatever," she explained, playing with the frayed edge of her blanket.

            "You don't strike me as the type to get involved," he noted. She shook her head.

            "Fucking sausage fest," she snorted. "That's my quiet time." His eyebrow rose. "I usually do a little yoga while the boys are distracted." She yawned. "You planning on going?"

            "Probably not."

            "Damn." He chuckled.

            "You can still do yoga," he insisted. "I won't tell anyone." She shrugged. "Got a question for you." Her eyes lit up.

            "Shoot."

            "Tagged." Her eyes fell, fingers absentmindedly rubbing over her forearm. His was in the same place.

            "Electronic tracking. We're all coded." She shook her head. "Numbers in the system. If there's a break, they know it." His eyebrows furled. "It's kinda like GPS, but not really. Actually, it's more like radar in a way, so I've heard."

            "You know, Orbis 12 tried something like that," he offered, watching her eyes rise slowly to meet his. "Except they added in a little packet of neurotoxin that would break if someone were to stray too far from the boundaries, if you know what I mean."

            "I don't know," she said, catching the coded question in his words. "I can ask Doc, but no promises."

            "Don't worry about it." She stared at him. "I'm not planning on going anywhere."

            "Big Evil's gonna just sit back and accept his incarceration?"

            "Where did you hear that name?" he growled.

            "What name?" She watched him carefully, his jaw rippling as his teeth clenched.

            "Big Evil." She laughed.

            "Twosy. He said he heard one of the guards talking about Big Evil and assumed it was you." Riddick snorted. "Fitting nickname, don't you think?" No answer. "I mean, you're a big guy, long rap sheet. I think it suits you well." She cocked her head at him. "Why?"

            "No reason."

            "Liar."

            "You're one to talk," he retorted. "Tell me something." Her eyes narrowed. "Did you check him for goods?" Her lips twitched, slowly curling upwards. "Good girl." She nodded in satisfaction. "What's the count?"

            "Twenty-five."

            "And five to go."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

            Riddick's ears perked up when he heard her leave. She tried to be quiet about it, not to disturb him, but it didn't work. He wanted to just roll over and go back to sleep, but he couldn't. A heavy sigh, a rub of the eyes, and he gave in.

            _Dear Friend: I have not heard from my Jack in many weeks, and I am beginning to worry. Her email box is full, and she's not responded to anything I've sent her. A strange man answered the phone to her apartment and told me I had the wrong number. Beginning to worry is a bit of an understatement, I suppose. I do not know what to make of this._

_            The more I try not to worry, the more she consumes my thoughts. I pray Allah will keep her safe. I have a feeling, however, she has gone to find Mr. Riddick. After the visit from the man who reminded her so much of him, it would surprise me to find out she hasn't. I hope she is safe, in any case._

_            You would be interested to know that I have met someone. Ever since the death of my first wife I have been empty, more so since losing my sons, and now Jack. She understands the situation and is very supportive of me. The wedding is only a few weeks away now. She dreams of having a daughter. You always told me I couldn't be alone for a very long while, and how right you turned out to be._

_            My thoughts are with you, old friend. I pray your behavior is good enough to be considered for early release so that you may visit me one day. I miss our conversations._

_            I will write again soon, old friend. Allah be with you._

_            - Imam _

            She held her breath, waiting in the shadows as the boots passed by, finally letting it out in a quiet sigh. _Where the fuck did I hide that god damn body?_ She shook her head and continued on.

            "Looks like an inmate's work." _Shit! They couldn't have found it already. _She heard the radio click on and backed up until she felt the wall behind her, then casually walked away. "Call it in."

            "Roger that. Lockdown on the way. Over." _Fuck!_ Her steps picked up speed as she rounded the corner, breaking out into an all out run until she got to the Z block again, where she slowed her pace to a casual mosey. The lights flickered, and she heard Riddick groan.

            "You okay?"

            "Isn't it a little early for lockdown?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

            "Yeah, well," she said with a light shrug. "Evidence." His eyebrow rose, and she sighed, flopping onto her bed. "I was planning on digging out dude's tag and taking it to Doc to see what we could see, you know?" He nodded slightly, a slight warning in his gaze. "Found it."

            "Hell." She nodded.

            "So they're going to go cell to cell until they find someone who looks guilty enough to take a trip to the hole."

            "So don't look guilty," he said with an evil grin. She smirked back at him.

            "Wasn't plannin' on it."

            "Sarge?" She sighed.

            "What, Red?"

            "What the fuck is going on?" he called back.

            "Fuck if I know. What'd you do this time?"

            "Probably found my little piss corner," he snorted. She smiled. "Serves them right for not giving us a bucket to shit in." Riddick shook his head.

            "Open up." Riddick lifted his head, glaring at the guard tapping his tazer on the cell door.

            "What for?"  Sarge snapped, receiving only a toothy grin. "Don't tell me they canceled the fights."

            "You never go anyway, Sarge," the second guard crooned. She shrugged.

            "I listen." He laughed.

            "Open the fucking door," the first guard commanded. She held her hands up in mock defeat and complied, finding herself smashed up against the nearest wall. "Stand up, convict," she heard him say. Riddick's bed creaked as he complied. "Now, I heard a nasty rumor, little lady, that you accepted a hit for someone."

            "What the fuck are you talking about?" she asked in her most believably guiltless voice. "You really think I'd be dumb enough to do something like that? Hell, people like me here." The guard snickered.

            "Your MO is too flawless, Sarge," he whispered.

            "I did it." Sarge fought to turn her head over her shoulder.

            "Excuse me?" the guard said slowly, turning his head as well.

            "I said I did it, you steaming pile of meaningless shit," Riddick repeated. Sarge's eyes questioned him.

            "Really."

            "That's what I said."

            "He's lying," Sarge said quickly. "He's too sick to fucking stand." The guard glanced at him. "All that shit you pump into us when we get here. Everyone gets sicker than shit. He didn't do it."

            "So who did?"

            "Fuck if I know," Sarge spat, glaring at the guard over her shoulder.

            "Why don't we take both of you to the hole then," the guard sneered.

            "Dave, we don't have the grounds—" the second guard started, but was cut off by the first.

            "Like hell we don't. We don't need a reason," he added. Sarge started to say something, but the tazer jabbed into her back, and she bit her tongue. "Get them out of here." She sighed. _Well, that didn't go as planned._ Riddick sent her a look as the guard turned her to go out into the hallway, and she calmed down. Down the corridor, and through that dreaded door with a splash. She turned to see Riddick pushed through the door as well, falling the five feet to the bottom of the pit. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

            "Nice going," she said quietly. He shrugged. "You're gonna get pneumonia." He made a face, telling her he didn't think so. She backed up into a corner.

            "I take it you've done this before." She nodded slowly, biting back another shiver. Her clothes clung to her body, and he couldn't help but look her over. "You gonna be okay?"

            "I'll make it," she stammered through chattering teeth. "I'm more worried about you." He only grunted, and she watched him for a while, his eyes searching for a place to get out of the water. There was none. "Why?" she asked, voice shaking.

            "Why what?" He didn't even act like the water affected him in the least. She blinked a few times, and he nodded. "Figured I'd take the fall so you could do your yoga thing during the fights." She snorted, shaking her head, a smile slowly spreading across her face, but it fell with another violent shiver. "Water yoga?" She shook her head harder, a chilled laugh escaping.

            "Kinda hard to do the inverted poses without drowning." He cocked his head, granting the logic.

            "Why does he let them throw you down here?" Her eyebrow rose.

            "Why does who?"

            "Anders." Her eyes fell, focusing on the ripples in the water above her waist. She didn't say anything so he continued. "I mean, if you're the only woman here, which you are, and he uses you for his toy, which he does, I would think he'd try to keep you in one piece."

            "It's not about being a toy," she muttered. He waited. "It's about power." He waited some more. "It's about submission. I've never been submissive, and this is his way of getting even."

            "For what?"

            "For not being the daughter he never had."

            "Daughter." It sounded like a statement, but he was really asking.

            "Anders couldn't reproduce. Figured he'd just treat his nieces like daughters and be okay. But I wasn't the poster child for a warden's neice, so he couldn't treat me like a daughter." She shrugged. Or shivered. Could have been either. "So he thought he would teach me what compliance is supposed to be."

            "And you didn't fight back."

            "Oh, I did for a while," she said with a small smile, meeting his eyes for just a moment. "I fought hard for a while." She cringed. "And then I realized they wouldn't hit me as hard if I didn't fight." A small shrug, as though it made perfect sense. "So I stopped fighting."

            "You gave in," Riddick corrected. She glared up at him, eyes suddenly angry.

            "I never gave in," she snapped. "You think I wanted this? You think I want to be raped by my uncle, not knowing when it's coming, and now knowing if there are going to be repercussions that might get me killed because I'm to pregnant to fucking run from someone?" The angrier she got, the harder she shook. "You know what they do to pregnant women in predominantly male prisons, Riddick?" He sighed.

            "Calm down," he commanded gently. She was wasting energy needed to keep her warm.

            "No, I won't calm down," she yelled, trudging through the water toward him, her movements slowed by the pressure of the water around them. "How the fuck am I supposed to calm down, huh? There's not a God damn thing I can do about this, and you're standing there, all knowing, all powerful, telling me to fucking calm down? Fuck you!" Her fists balled up and swung, but he caught her arms, pulling her against him, unsure if her trembling was because she was so pissed or so cold. She fought against his hold, beating her fists into his chest as the tears surfaced, finally giving in to the embrace with a loud sob. His arms went around her as her knees gave out, and he held her up, held her against him, and suddenly the water wasn't so cold anymore with the shared body heat. "You don't know how hard it was to keep myself from slitting my throat with my own fucking shiv just so he couldn't win anymore," she whispered between gasping sobs. His brow furled and he looked down at her, her face red, tears flowing freely, eyes scrunched shut. He sighed heavily and picked her up, walking both of them to a corner.

            He couldn't feel his toes. The shivers went unnoticed now, so constant it seemed almost normal. His fingernail beds were blue, and his abs were starting to ache from trembling so hard. She'd been asleep for hours now, still shivering against him, teeth chattering audibly. He popped his neck, and the water started to recede.

            "Thank God," he muttered, closing his eyes. As soon as the water was gone, he slid to the floor, positioning her in a fetal-esque position between his knees, still cradled against his chest. Every now and then, little whimpers would escape her, and she'd shudder forcefully. He pulled her closer, clearing the wet, clinging strands of hair from her face.

            He'd doze off once in a while, wakened by another violent quake from the small woman against him. A sigh would pierce the air, and he'd watch her again. High cheekbones, fair skin, fine features. A smirk. Cute nose. He shook his head, running his hand through her hair, coming to rest on a cold, clammy cheek. She shuddered again, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. _Talk about cruel and unusual punishment._ Even as the water dried from their clothes, the trembling continued. Hours passed, naps interrupted by trembling, thoughts slowed by the biting cold. Finally, a clang as the door opened. Riddick's head turned slowly as a ramp into the pit was lowered.

            "Time's up," the guard said, motioning for them to leave the room. Riddick glanced down at Sarge, still asleep, and he shook her. No response, save a stronger quiver. He sighed, picking her up. It would have been an easy task, had his muscles not been so overworked from the constant shivering. He towered over the guard, pausing to glare menacingly down at him, but was shoved through the door and down the hallway.

            Once inside the small cell, he laid Sarge down on her bed and chained the door, turning back to watch her. _Probably be faster warming up if we combine body heat again, _he thought, watching her trembling reach the near convulsing stage. He sighed as he pulled his boots off, and then hers, before grabbing the blankets from his bed. She whimpered as he shifted her under the covers and arranged the blanket around her, finally crawling in against the wall and scooting below the blankets, once again pulling her against his chest. Slowly, they shook each other into a fitful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

            Riddick woke to a hollow, rattling cough. This time, though, it wasn't his. He pried his eyes open, and looked down at her, her face crumbled into a disgusted and uncomfortable scowl. She sniffed and flopped over onto her other side, burying her face in his chest. An amused smirk slid across his lips, but fell when she opened her eyes, suddenly pushing away from him. His eyebrow arched slowly. Another cough racked her body and she shook her head.

            "Fuck." She sighed, flopping onto her back, pulling the blankets over her head.

            "Sarge?" Riddick's head snapped up. Red leaned against the barred entrance to the cell. She coughed again, and Red's eyes met Riddick's.

            "Hole," he said quietly, and Red nodded, lips forming a silent 'oh.'

            "What do you want, Red?" Sarge mumbled, voice muffled by the pile of blankets.

            "Hadn't seen you in a few days," he said, eyeing Riddick. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

            "I'm fucking fabulous, Red," she groaned. Riddick smirked.

            "Missed some damn good fights," Red commented, nodding at Riddick.

            "Damn." Sarge's voice was flat. "Now that I know what I missed, can I go back to sleep?" Red snickered.

            "Yeah," he said quietly, face falling to a serious, concerned expression. "I need to talk to you though."

            "So fucking talk."

            "Alone," he clarified. She snapped the blankets over her head and looked at him, face unreadable.

            "You can say it to me, you can say it to him," she said, nodding in Riddick's direction. "He's a fucking convict, too, remember?" Red's eyebrow rose. "I'm serious, Red. You want to talk? Fucking talk."

            "Never mind," Red mumbled quickly, shaking his head. "Go back to sleep." She nodded in satisfaction and pulled the blankets back over her head, waiting until his footsteps were out of earshot.

            "I don't like him," she said quietly. Riddick chuckled, lying back down. She heaved a sigh.

            "He seems to have taken a liking to you," Riddick offered, laughing at the light smack she gave him.

            "Probably wants to fucking propose or some shit," she moaned, making a large show of shifting to her side. "You're warm," she added quietly, peeking out from under the edge of the tattered blanket. Riddick grunted, eyes closed again. She stared at him until he cracked one eye open to glance at her.

            "C'mere," he muttered. An arm slipped around her shoulder, pulling her against his side. She settled her head on his shoulder, eyes closing as a hand flattened on her lower back, the other resting over her hand on his chest. She didn't see the pained expression as her lips pressed against the side of his neck.

            He inhaled sharply as Jack's lips pressed against his, responding fervently. He didn't dream often, but when he did, it was about her. His hands cupped her cheeks, holding her against him as they kissed, a quiet moan vibrating through his chest. Her lips moved down his neck, softly biting now and again. He squirmed under her as his shirt slid up his torso, her hands barely skimming the skin exposed. Muscles tightened as her lips trailed a wandering path down his chest to his stomach, and a little lower. Nimble fingers hooked in the waistband of his pants, and his eyes opened. Stone walls surrounded him, the entrance to the cell blocked by metal bars and a chain with a simple combination padlock. The adoring kisses continued around a side, teeth gently pinching the skin above his hip, and his eyes closed again. _Something's not right._ His eyes slammed open again as the bed creaked quietly.

            "Sarge?" The kissing paused, and he glanced down, a blob under the blanket at his waist. The covers were thrown back, and he swore. Her head dropped, and she fell onto her side next to him. He sighed, sitting up to pull his shirt down where it belonged.

            "Sorry," she whispered, rubbing her forehead. She glanced at him, watching him press his fingers into his temples. "I'm sorry," she repeated. He shook his head.

            "I just can't okay?" She nodded slowly, watching him stand and drop into his bed, facing the wall away from her.

            "You pushed him." Twosy's voice wasn't angry or condescending. Merely matter of fact.

            "I know," she mumbled, nodding slightly. "I just thought—" She stopped suddenly, shaking her head as her eyes closed, a pained and regretful expression marring her features. Twosy sat next to her slowly.

            "You thought what?"

            "I thought if it was voluntary…" she shook her head, grimacing. Twosy nodded, understanding. If she gave herself willingly her abuse would go away.

            "It won't Sarge," he said gently. "Not if it's not mutual, it won't go away." She nodded.

            "I know that." She sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking."

            "Give him time," Twosy advised. "You don't know when or if he'll be able to move on, but pushing him into something like this certainly isn't going to make it easier on him." She nodded. "Or you, either," he added.

            "He really loved her, didn't he?" she asked quietly, fidgeting with her fingers. Her head snapped up, attention suddenly drawn to a ruckus down the hall. It quieted, and she returned to her fidgeting.

            "Yes, I think so," Twosy said quietly. "And to her credit, it couldn't have been an easy thing to do.

            Outside Twosy's cell, out of sight, Riddick cringed. He knew she was sorry, that she didn't mean to push him. Still hurt, though. He stifled a sigh. The conversation continued.

            "She was a lucky girl," Sarge said, a small smile playing on her lips. Twosy only nodded. "She saw the good in him no one else thought was there."

            "And to your credit," Twosy said, "so do you." She nodded.

            "You know," she said suddenly, shifting in her seat, "Everyone thinks we convicts are heartless. Cold, uncaring killers. Evil to the core." She shook her head in disgust. "No matter how many people down here like that reputation, we're all human."

            "How right you are," Twosy said with a nod.

            "And that's what makes this place so fucking dangerous," she continued. "We start to care about people here, make friends or whatever. And then something happens – someone dies in a fight, or in the hole – and all hell breaks loose because we made the mistake of caring again."

            "Don't get cynical on me, Kody." Riddick glanced over his shoulder toward Twosy's cell door at the mention of a new nickname for her. "Stop caring and you'll die on the inside." Sarge sighed. "That soul of yours – that character in you – is what keeps me going every day." She smiled up at Twosy weakly. "I never had children, praise whatever supernatural powers may be. But if I ever had a daughter, I'd want her to be you." Riddick thought he noticed an emotional quiver in the man's voice.

            "Murders and all?" Sarge asked with a snicker.

            "Hey, just because a damn court says it's unjustified doesn't make them right," Towsy insisted. Sarge laughed.

            "So what do I do, wise man?" she asked, voice smiling.

            "Give him time." She nodded. "Just let things happen," Twosy advised. "If it's meant to be, it will be."

            "How fatalistic of you," she said, a patronizing tone in her voice. Twosy just shrugged.

            "You get to be that way at my age." She smiled at him, nodding to avoid another lengthy philosophical discussion. She could never win with Twosy. Riddick just stared at the ground, even as he heard her walk toward the cell door and into the hallway, halting at the sight of him. His eyes rose to meet hers painfully slowly, expecting to find a scared face staring back at him, but it was remorseful instead. She forced a small smile and walked by him slowly, reaching out to squeeze an arm gently as she passed. He sighed and shoved away from the wall, entering Twosy's cell.

            "Shrink me," he said, flopping onto Twosy's bed and striking a pose one would expect to see on the face of someone at a psychotherapy session. Twosy only glanced at him quizzically.

            "I'm guessing you were eavesdropping," he finally said. Riddick shrugged noncommittally.

            "I was coming to talk to you anyway. Figured I'd just wait outside since I didn't have an appointment," he gruffed, coaxing a small smile from the older convict.

            "She really cares for you," he said quietly, staring down at his hands in his lap. Riddick sighed. "I know you don't think you could love again, and that's a normal and completely human response." Twosy paused, looking Riddick in the eye. "But you can."

            "What if I don't want to?" Twosy's eyebrow rose.

            "We all want to," he said. "Humans are social creatures." He shook his head. "Just because you move on doesn't mean she's been replaced," he added. "She'll always have a special place in your heart, Richard. I can tell you the Sarge doesn't take things like this lightly."

            "Things like what?"

            "Attraction. Giving oneself to another, especially with what she's been through," he explained. "She's been here for six long years, Richard, and not once has she offered herself to someone before." Riddick's eyes closed. "Are you listening to me?"

            "Yeah," Riddick said. "Less distraction this way. Pay better attention." Twosy didn't protest, but his eyebrow rose slightly.

            "You have a strong presence, Riddick. Most people fear that. Jack didn't, and neither does the Sarge." Riddick's cheek twitched, a cover-up for a cringe. "I'm not telling you that you should fall into her arms and pledge your undying love for her. I don't expect that to happen, even on your best day." Riddick couldn't help but chuckle at that mental image. "I'm not even telling you to give her a chance." Riddick's eyes opened. "What I am telling you, though, is that no matter how hard you try not to be, you will always be capable of loving. Thank Jack for bringing the humanity back, Riddick, and don't ever let go of her." Twosy cocked his head to the side for emphasis, noting the seriousness of Riddick's face. "She's the best thing that ever happened to you. Sarge knows that, and she accepts the fact that she'll never take Jack's place. I doubt she even wants to, knowing how much you cared for her." Riddick swallowed the lump in his throat. "But you do have to let her go and live on."

            "I can't." Riddick surprised both of them with the weakness in his voice.

            "Yes you can," Twosy said gently. "You have to in order to maintain the strength that makes you who you are." He paused pensively. "Who you need to be to survive."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

            "You wanna go for a walk?" Riddick's eyebrow rose, taking in the Sarge, leaning against the wall as she wrapped evenly torn black fabric around her wrists and hands. Her eyes met his, locking on his even as she moved toward her bed, tucking shivs into hiding places on her body here and there. He just stared back, and she finally sighed, rolling her eyes. "Of course you do," she said quietly. "Come on." She nodded to the door, grasping a bar as she swung around the corner.

            "Where are we going?" he asked slowly, receiving only a shake of the head from the woman in front of him. He followed her down a dark hallway, and paused as she did, hearing the footsteps too.  He wrapped a hand around her waist, pressing into her belly to draw her back into a shadowed corner against him, both watching; waiting. The footsteps paused, no words spoken, and then continued on. Riddick grinned, giving her a quick squeeze to let her know it was okay to continue.

            She led him down the corridor, feeling along the wall to find her way. He watched her move, very catlike, walking on her toes silently. Just like a fighter. Her pants were so long he didn't notice her ankles were wrapped as well, in the same torn black fabric. She paused, and he watched her search for something, finally crouching.

            "Here," she whispered, nodding at the wall. She pulled on something, finally removing a grate from a vent duct. He glanced over his shoulder. All clear. A nod, and she returned it, disappearing into the hole. "Close it behind you," she instructed, waiting as he turned to secure the grating. Evidently she knew where she was going. The ventilation system was a maze, even worse than the corridors of the prison itself, but she seemed to know exactly which turns to take. Finally, she paused above another grate, staring down into it. He watched as she passed it and then worked her way around to face him, holding a finger to her lips and pointing downward. Shuffling forward silently, he hovered over the screen and watched lightly-armed guards mill around for a while. His eyes snapped up to hers, and she just grinned maniacally. He shook his head, silently telling her this was crazy, but she shot him a chastising glare. The lights went out, and she waited a few moments before pulling the grate from its resting place, pushing it quietly behind her. He sighed, watching her drop down into the locker room, landing in a defensive stance. She glanced up, nodding. He knew it was clear. _Fuck._ He lowered himself silently, crouching between two rows of lockers as footsteps passed the door.

            A hand lightly touched his shoulder, and he turned, arm pulled back and ready to strike. She scowled up at him, nodding behind her. He sighed, following her into the shower room. Hidden up a pant leg was a small, self-made bag, and she filled it with the largest bars of soap she could find, also adding other little things that could catch a nice price on the prison market. He stood by and watched, leaning against the entrance to the showers, watching and listening. She nudged his shoulder, nodding up at him, and he led the way back to the grate, lifting her up high enough for her to grasp the edge and pull herself back up. He followed quickly, watching her replace the grate.

            "You know where you're going?" she whispered. He shook his head, and she dropped hers between her shoulders with a heavy sigh. "Lay down."

            "What?" he whispered back sharply. Her eyebrow rose.

            "You don't know how to get back. I do. You're in front, and I can't whisper directions the whole way. Lay the fuck down with your arms above your head." He sighed, complying, and she crawled over him, kicking him in the shoulder to let him know she'd passed. Back through the maze of tunnels, and he saw the small amount of light shining through the grate ahead. She paused in front of it, listening. Quickly, she pushed the barrier out from the wall and scampered out of the tunnel, waving for him to hurry. She replaced the grate, and they walked side by side back to the cell.

            "How the hell did you –" She shook her head, nodding to the door. _Right.__ The walls have ears_, he thought.

            "I"ll be right back," she said quickly, a satisfied smile touching her lips as she turned to head back out into the hallway. Her feet, bare except for the wraps, padded silently down the cold stone flooring, easily navigating the maze of prison halls as she made her way to the doc's. "Doc." He glanced up at her sharply, the irritation from being distracted from his work instantly fading at the sight of her leaning against the wall with that precious bag.

            "You got something for me?" he asked quietly. Her eyebrow rose as a smirk lit her face, and he grinned a crooked, partly toothed smile.

            "It can wait until you're done with sterilization," she said lightly, knowing he would turn her down.

            "That can wait. What did you find for me this time?"

            "You know," she said, pushing away from the wall and flopping onto his makeshift surgery table. "I sure do you a lot of favors," she continued, meeting his eyes with a hard stare. His eyebrow cocked.

            "I'm listening." She fought to keep the smirk from cracking.

            "Went through some lockers," she informed quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Found some shit you'd really like to have." His eyes lit up. "Shit your patients would be begging for when having something major done." He nodded. "Now, I've got twenty-five for you," meaning cigarettes. A sigh. He hated bartering for work. "I'll give you those, plus the antiseptic I found, plus the three syringes I found," he glanced up at her, suddenly gaining interest, "and _plus,_" she paused dramatically, eyeing him, "a whole stray bottle of that fucking tranquilizer they use to get people into decon."

            "Done," he said quickly. She nodded, standing slowly.

            "Oh," she said, turning back to face him. "Riddick stays." The doctor's eyebrows scrunched into a scowl. "Through the whole thing." One bushy eyebrow rose, but the menacing glint in her eyes was enough. "You fuck up, he snaps your neck, nice and quiet like, got it?" He nodded, and she turned.

            "Sarge." She paused, glancing over her shoulder at him. "When do I get the stuff?"

            "Payment upon completion," she said with a shrug. "And that means _after_ I heal completely and know I can fucking see." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

            "Let me think about it."

            "What's to think about?" she snorted, turning back to him, hands on her hips. He glanced at her, noting the wraps on her wrists and ankles, finally deciding not to push it.

            "I'll let you know by messenger later tonight." Her eyebrow rose.

            "Who?"

            "Monkey." She nodded. 

            Riddick stared at her as she bounced lightly into the room, obviously happy about something. She swung the bag onto the bed and followed, the springs groaning in protest as her weight shook the small cot. His eyes followed her fingers as she removed the wrappings, folding them neatly before tucking them into her pillow case.

            "You really were a fighter, weren't you?" he asked. She nodded slightly. "Competitive?"

            "Professional for a while," she said with a dismissive shrug.

            "Really." He sounded impressed, so she met his eyes.

            "Does that surprise you?"

            "Not really," he admitted, her indifferent gesture. "You actually know how and where to wrap, move the right way, light on your feet, know how to land." She smirked.

            "Could just be good at being sneaky," she pushed. He caught the bait.

            "No, you're more graceful than just being sneaky. It's just the stance," he said, not really knowing how to word the observation. "There's sneaky and then there's stealthy," he said finally, rubbing his chin. Outside the cell, a throat was cleared, and Sarge turned toward the noise.

            "How nice of you to stop by, Monkey," she cooed, sliding off the bed. Riddick's eyebrow rose. The name was fitting. The small man – hell, the guy couldn't have been more than twenty – had a round, plain face, and ears that stuck out slightly. Riddick suppressed a chuckle. "Didn't take the good doctor long to ponder, did it?" He shook his head, not a word uttered. He held out a hand with a folded piece of paper, and she took it between two fingers, holding it up as though inspecting it. The boy cleared his throat again, and she nodded, clapping a hand around his thin neck and giving him a gentle squeeze. "Thanks." Monkey nodded and disappeared.

            "Monkey?"

            "Likes to climb shit," she explained. "Better in the vents than me," she added quietly. Riddick nodded. He could see that.

            "Doesn't talk much." She paused, glancing up at him quickly before returning her attention to breaking the wax seal on the note.

            "Never talks," she corrected. "He's mute, Riddick," she added softly. "Only thing he knows to do is clear his throat, and that's good enough for him." He watched her eyes flit over the paper, narrowing as she squinted to read in the dim light. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, and she lifted her eyes to his. His eyebrow rose questioningly, but she didn't say anything. Silver eyes lingered on her as she returned to the bed, blocking his sight of what she was doing. She turned to him, holding out a pair of black scrubs and a black wife beater. He glanced at them, and then back up to her quizzically. She only shrugged, dropping the clothing into his lap.

            "What's this?"

            "Payment," she said calmly as she walked away from him, running her fingers over the note.

            "For what?" His voice had a slight warning in it, and she turned back to him slowly.

            "I need a favor."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

            She glanced over at him nervously before pulling a stolen gray sweatshirt over her head. He noticed her hands were shaking slightly, and he reached out, taking each one of hers into his own. A small, forced smile passed over her face quickly before the nervousness returned.

            "You can't have that look on your face when you go in there," he said quietly.

            "I know," she whispered with a small nod. "By the time I get there, it'll be gone." Her eyes rose to meet his. "Promise."

            "Are you sure about this?" Another small nod, and he returned it, turning to the door, one of her hands grasping his tightly. They walked next to each other slowly, her eyes focused on the ground in front of them. Had he not been walking with her, it would have been a bad move on her part, and she wouldn't have done it. He paused a few doors away from their destination, his hold on her jerking her backwards. She looked up at him in confusion, and he sighed. "Last chance," he warned.

            "I know," she said with a nod. She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, that cold, intimidating glare was replaced. "I'm sure." He nodded, tucking a stray section of hair behind her ear.

            "You really trust me this much?" he asked. She paused, mouth slightly ajar for a while before she finally shut it and nodded. He stared down at her, finally returning the nod. "You're gonna be fine," he said quietly. She inhaled deeply. "Promise." A small smile, and he led the way.

            He held her hand, cringing as she squeezed at the insertion of the needle. The slow drip was started, and his other hand reached out, smoothing the hair away from her forehead. He glanced up at Doc and shook his head.

            "Not yet," he instructed. She felt Doc hovering at her other side and Riddick's eyes turned back to hers. "Just a few more minutes," he whispered. She nodded, swallowing thickly. Her lids grew heavy, and her hand went slack in his as her eyes closed slowly. He nodded at the doctor, who secured the straps over Sarge's forehead and chin, holding her in place.

            Riddick was fascinated as he watched the procedure. Sure, he'd gone through it, and without the luxury of the tranquilizer – watched the whole damn thing. It was a different perspective, though. He could only see what was being done _to_ him, not _around_ him. The whole process was intriguing. His respect for the doctor increased a notch or so.

            "It's not like her." Doc's voice broke through Riddick's thoughts.

            "What?" Riddick asked. The doctor looked up at him, pausing in his work for a moment.

            "When she first came to me and asked about getting a shine job, I asked her who she was going to have look after her." He shrugged, and Riddick waited. "Said she could take care of herself, so I put it off for a while," he shook his head, returning to his work.

            "Put it off…" Riddick pressed. The doctor nodded.

            "Told her I didn't have the equipment, blah, blah," he sighed. "There's no way anyone could take care of themselves right after this." Riddick cringed as Doc sliced into her other eye. "Can't see for a few days, and after that, everything's blurry for days. Not to mention it hurts like hell." Riddick nodded, reminiscing.

            "I remember," he said quietly. He took a breath and paused, prompting the doctor to glance up quickly before returning to the task at hand. "What color are her eyes?" Doc's hands paused over Sarge as he looked up at Riddick.

            "Blue." Riddick nodded. "Very vivid blue." The room fell silent again, Riddick watching every movement Doc made. "Who did yours, if you don't mind me asking?" Doc asked.

            "Doc at Butcher Bay." He received a knowing nod.

            "I know him." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "He's the reason I got transferred here. He knew the right guards well enough to complain about the competition. They knew this place was opening soon, so they put me in for a transfer." He shrugged. "Better business."

            "Haven't noticed a lot of shines," Riddick commented.

            "Haven't done a lot here," Doc admitted. Riddick growled slightly, and Doc glanced up. "No, I've done plenty of shine jobs, Riddick, just not at this particular prison. It's still young enough that the inmates don't really know a lot about them, especially the ones who are new to the system all together." Riddick nodded slightly, still not satisfied. "I actually worked for a mining company before, well, prison. Paid me good money," he said with a small smirk. "Learned the procedure well enough to be able to do it with such primitive tools and still have a high success rate," he finished proudly.

            "How high?"

            "Only lost one, and he didn't tell me he had seizures." Riddick snickered. "Had one in the middle of surgery, and, uh," Doc cleared his throat, "the scalpel slipped." The room fell silent again as Doc continued the surgery, Riddick returning to his fascinated stare. "Almost done," Doc finally said, using a small tool on Sarge's eyes. "She'll be sore for a while. I'll give you something to give her for it." Doc glanced up at him. "I have an associate who's very good at finding things," he said with a smirk.

            "Monkey?"

            "Yes," Doc answered, putting down his tools. "He's a good man." Riddick snickered. "All things considering," Doc added. "Good hitman, and a damn good pickpocket." Riddick watched the doctor undo the straps securing Sarge's head in place, and helped him hold her up as her eyes were wrapped with fresh gauze. "She'll bleed for a while. Not much, but don't freak out. It's normal."

            "I remember," Riddick said with a nod.

            "Make her rest. Don't leave her unattended." Doc looked up at him, staring into another doctor's work. "And whatever you do, do _not_ trust Red to watch her if you have to leave." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "Rumors," he said with a shrug. "Ask Twosy or Balls. If you can find someone to be a messenger for you, get Monkey to do it. I'll make sure he stops by regularly." Riddick nodded.

            "How long will she be out?" Riddick asked, glancing down at Sarge.

            "A couple days," Doc said quietly. "You're staying through lockdown." Riddick's eyebrow rose, and the doctor nodded. "Just in case." Riddick looked back at Sarge. "I want her close overnight." Riddick only nodded, and Doc disappeared. Evidently the prison understood the need for a convict doctor, and supplied him with a larger, more complex cell. The lights flickered and went out. _Didn't have time to get back to the cell anyway,_ Riddick thought with a quiet sigh. It was going to be a long few weeks.

            Riddick's head snapped up, instantly awake at the sound of approaching footsteps. Doc stepped out of the shadows, nodding at Sarge.

            "How'd she do?" Riddick glanced down at her.

            "Fine, I guess." Doc shuffled over, looking over his patient. He checked her pulse, changed her dressings, and finally nodded, satisfied.

            "You can take her back now," he said quietly. "Here," he continued, fishing through his pockets. "Tylenol. One every four hours." Riddick chuckled. "Or thereabouts. Your guess is as good as mine," he said with a smirk. "If things start smelling funny, bring her back." Riddick knew. "And remember what I said about watching her." Riddick nodded.

            "Thanks," he said quietly. Doc nodded.

            "Once everything's healed and she can see, send her back for payment." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "25 and some medical extras," the man said quickly, knowing his previous comment left room for interpretation. "You might want to come with her as well. She'll still be getting used to it." Riddick nodded, drawing the sleeping woman over his shoulder. "Oh," Doc said quickly, rushing over to a table. "Here." He handed Riddick a wad of fresh gauze wrap. "Keep it clean."

            "Richard?" Riddick glanced up from the letters Imam had written to Twosy, who was now standing in front of their locked cell. Twosy glanced over at Sarge, lying on her bed with gauze around her head, and back at Riddick.

            "She got her shine." Twosy sighed, leaning against the bars. Riddick stood and unlocked the chain, letting the older convict enter.

            "How is she?"

            "She's fine," Riddick said quietly, his eyes lingering over her. "She'll be out for a while, and then sore as hell, but she's fine."

            "I never understood it," Twosy said quietly, shaking his head. Riddick chuckled.

            "You wouldn't, unless you had one," Riddick said simply. Twosy only shrugged, the bed creaking as he sat next to Sarge. Riddick watched him adjust her hair, caress her cheek, and hold her hand, gently stroking the skin back and forth.

            "She's in good hands," Twosy commented, not looking up. Riddick cringed, thinking back to Jack's description of his hands.

            "Can you stay with her a minute?" Riddick asked. Twosy finally looked up. "I need to run to the canteen." The man nodded. Riddick stood, stretched, and left.

            He hated feeling rushed, but he also didn't want to leave Sarge in such a state, no matter how much Twosy cared about her. He knew she'd be safe with him, but he still didn't want to be too far away. He hurried through the slop, noting it didn't turn his stomach as much when he did that, and headed back to the cell, relieving Twosy of watch duty. He chained the door after Twosy left, and sat on his bed, just staring at Sarge. She'd not moved since he brought her back, and he was getting curious. He rose slowly, moving toward her silently, and reached out. Strong pulse, regular breathing, and not more than a drop or two of blood seeping through the gauze. _So far, so good_, he thought. He sat there for a moment, just watching the rise and fall of her chest.

            He heaved a sigh and crawled onto the bed behind her, wrapping his arm around her protectively. The lights flickered, metal groaned, claws clattered, and the lights went out. Riddick chuckled to himself. _She's gonna shit when she sees those things,_ he thought with a smile. His eyes closed slowly, senses suddenly more aware of the woman next to him. A sharp inhale granted him a whiff of her hair. It was clean, but not fragranced, like Jack's had been. He cringed, scrunching his eyes closed tighter before letting them flutter open. _You can't keep comparing her to Jack, Dick_, he chided himself. _She's not Jack. She'll never be Jack. _He sighed, lifting his arm to clear Sarge's hair away from the side of her face. Unconsciously, his fingers continued, tucking the dark strands behind her ear and brushing it over her shoulder between them, exposing her neck. He leaned forward, touching his nose to her skin. _She needs you right now,_ he told himself. _She's blind, and will be for a while. Just suck it up._ He sighed, closing his eyes again as his arm flexed to pull her closer to him. Before he could think about it, his lips pressed lightly against the nape of her neck, drawing a shudder from her. His eyes opened, and for the first time, he noticed the tattoo of a dragon on the back of her neck, just above her shoulders. He stared at it for a while.

            It wasn't detailed, just a silhouette. The dragon was mid-flight, wings stretched, tail floating gracefully behind, and a forked tongue snaked out to test the air. As far as he could tell, it was black, the eye probably a different color. But it didn't look like a prison tattoo – it was too well-done for that. The lines were clean, color even. He felt entranced by it, unable to tear his eyes away. Finally, sleep overtook him, and he gave in.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

            A sharp inhale marked the beginning of his awakening, and he shifted, pressing deeper into the lumpy padding on the cot. He felt her stiffen against him, and opened his eyes slowly as he gave her a gentle squeeze.

            "You awake?" he asked quietly. She groaned, sliding further under the covers uneasily.

            "Riddick?" He acknowledged her guess, and she sighed. "It hurts."

            "It's going to." She nodded. "You want something for it?" Her head turned toward him slightly, and Riddick chuckled. "Monkey scrounged up some Tylenol for Doc." She nodded, wincing as the bed moved as he reached over her for it. He helped her sit up, retreating for the bottle of water under her bed. "Open," he said quietly, cupping the bottom of her chin as he poked a pill in her mouth, taking her hand in his to close it around the canteen, watching her drink slowly.

            "How'd it go?" she asked finally, letting him cradle her head as she lay back down.

            "It went," he said, watching her cringe. "You'll be fine." She heard him shift behind her, assuming he was also crawling back under the covers, and felt his arm slide around her again, dragging her backwards until she was firmly against his chest.

            "Warn me next time you do that, please," she moaned. "Either that or tell me the room really is spinning like a fucking top." He laughed.

            "A little dizzy, are we?" he snickered.

            "No," she said, shaking her head. "Disoriented. I don't know where the fuck I am." He smiled.

            "You're in my bed, facing the room." She sighed. "I wanted to keep you out of direct light, just in case."

            "Can I take this thing off my head yet?"

            "Nope." Another weighty sigh. "Not until it stops bleeding for a day or so."

            "It's still bleeding?" One would have expected her voice to have at least a touch of panic, but it didn't.

            "Yeah," he said with a slight shrug. "A little." She mumbled nothing in particular, just some nonsense utterances. "It will for a few days."

            "A few days?" She felt him nod. "Christ. He didn't tell me I'd be a fucking invalid," she grumbled.

            "Think of it this way," he advised. "You'll be blind for about a week, then everything will be blurry for a couple days, and after that, you'll have the greatest asset in the world."

            "Seeing in the dark," she quipped, happy but still sleepy.

            "Exactly." He grinned. "Now you'll be the one whispering 'I see you' to some poor fuck in the hallway." She snickered.

            "Pity." A small moan escaped her, and she shifted beside him. "Riddick?"

            "Hmm?"

            "Why are you staying with me?" He inhaled harshly. He'd asked Jack the same thing.

            "What do you mean?"

            "I figured you'd just plop me in my bed and go about your business," she stated with a weak shrug. He smiled, indulging the urge to clear her hair away from her neck again.

            "I'd like to stay on your good side." He saw her cheeks move into a smile, her quiet laugh lilting in his ears. They both jumped at the loud buzz, and she sighed.

            "Showers," she explained. "You going?"

            "Do I smell that bad?" She snickered. "Well, is anyone willing to skip theirs to stay with you?"

            "Probably not," she said, her voice somewhat sour.

            "Then you can deal with my smell."

            He really hated feeling rushed. Especially when he had other errands to run after making a quick stop at the canteen. Twosy was looking after her, so she should be safe. He finished his slop hastily and stood, heading out. He needed to find Red.

            "Tell me something." Red's head snapped over his shoulder. Riddick slowly revealed himself, leaving the safety of the shadows. "Why would Doc tell me not to trust you?" Red's eyebrow rose. "Something about hearing rumors." Red shook his head.

            "I have no idea," he said with a shrug.

            "Aw, don't be like that Red," Riddick drawled, satisfied that Red's eyes narrowed. A brief glint of light flickered as Riddick adjusted the shiv hidden in his palm. Red sighed.

            "Doc and I had a falling out a while back," he said with a cringe, eyes trained on the hand hiding a weapon. "Deal gone bad."

            "Your fault?"  
            "Unfortunately," Red admitted. "Deal of my own went bad that affected his. I learned not to make deals until I had the shit in my hands."

            "Smart," Riddick commented. "But how would that affect his recommendations on getting someone to look after Sarge when I have to leave?"

            "What happened to her?" Red's voice had a touch of alarm, and Riddick only smirked, not offering any excessive information. "Riddick, what the fuck happened to her?"

            "She's fine. Don't worry about her." Another glint of light. "Worry about someone else right now," he warned. Red visibly gulped, but didn't speak. "A word of advice," Riddick ground out. "Don't fucking test my patience." Silver eyes narrowed. "I don't have much of it."

            "I don't know," Red spit, suddenly finding himself off the ground, pressed into the wall with a very sharp weapon pressing against his throat. "Okay, okay," he stammered quickly. "Everyone here knows I've got a thing for her."

            "A thing," Riddick pressed. Red sighed.

            "Yeah. I care about her."

            "You care about her or you think you love her?" Riddick's voice was rough and menacing, pushed through clenched teeth.

            "I love her," Red stammered, voice turning up at the end of the sentence as though he were unsure.

            "You don't deserve to love her," Riddick growled, suddenly dropping the reddened convict. He'd hoisted Red far enough off the ground the impact from the fall sent jolts of pain through his knees, a strangled cry breaking as he crumpled to the ground. Riddick walked away, his profile highlighted by a dim light.

            "And you would know about love, huh Riddick?" The sarcastic tone in Red's voice made Riddick stop, the light emphasizing the ripple of tightening muscle. His head cocked to the side as he pondered Red's fate, which now lay in Riddick's hands.

            "Yeah," he growled, turning to give Red a hard stare. "More than you ever will." Red let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding as the massive man disappeared down the hallway. He waited until all was silent before scampering off.

            Nervousness. A feeling unsettling to Riddick more so than the average person. The closer he got to his cell, the stronger the smell of blood. As he rounded the corner, he heard the awestruck voices, indecipherable muffles. He pushed through the crowd easily, stopping in his tracks as the sight hit him.

            "Shit." Nostrils flared, hands clenched, and jaw tightened. "Leave," he growled. The mob scattered, and Riddick sighed, stooping to draw down the lids over Twosy's staring, lifeless grey eyes. He stayed crouched there for a while, assessing the situation. The bullet had been picked up, a scar in the stone telling him it was a through and through shot. _At least he went fast_, he thought, eyeing the seeping hole in Twosy's forehead. That didn't ease the situation though. With as fragile as Sarge was right now, she couldn't handle another episode. He cringed, hoping they knew to leave her eyes alone. She could take being hit elsewhere, but nowhere near the swollen, already bruised eyes so recently tampered with. "Fuck." He stood, pacing around the room for a while. No need to worry about taking the blame. Guns were hard to come by on the inside, and too loud to be convenient. Guards didn't have to carry silencers. _Damn it, Twosy,_ he thought. _Just had to fight for her, didn't you? Good heart, but stupid._ He shook his head, pulling Twosy's lifeless body down the hallway and into a shadowy corner.

            In the shadows he waited, until he heard the door open and slam. Two beats, and then up the stairs. He cringed, picking her up gingerly. The wraps around her eyes had been removed, blood seeping slowly. _Just got that stopped, mother fuckers_. The crowd gathered around him slowly, one convict added with every few steps he took. No one said a word, and he wasn't sure if it was the deep scowl he wore or the limp, battered, half-dressed woman in his arms. At least they were smart enough to keep their distance, and stay outside his cell as he carefully deposited her on the bed. He turned, chaining and locking the door, and gripped the bars tightly.

            "Show's over," he said quietly. "Move the fuck on." Slowly, the gathering dispersed, and he rested his forehead against the bars.  "Leave!" His voice echoed through the hallways, prompting feet to move faster. The bed creaked at his outburst, and he turned, brow furling as his eyes fell upon her. She was trembling, balled up, and bleeding. "Kody?" She whimpered. "Let's get you cleaned up," he whispered, reaching out for a wad of gauze. Her face jerked as he grasped her chin, and he shushed her, speaking to her softly as he dabbed away the blood. "Did they hit you in the face?" Another weak whimper, and he grimaced. "Can you sit up for me?" She shuddered. "I'm gonna give you some more Tylenol, okay? I need you to sit up." Whimper. "It'll make the pain go away," he urged. She moaned, trying to press herself up, and he reached out to help her. "Hang on a minute," he said gently, twisting the lid off her water canteen and retrieving one of the few pills left. "Here," he said, gently supporting the back of her neck. Bloody, cracked lips parted, and a pill was planted. He held up the canteen to her lips, holding it for her as she drank little by little. He used his shirt tail to wipe her lips, gently shushing the hiss she let out. She whimpered again as he helped her lie back down, shifting as the covers were drawn over her. "You're okay now," he whispered, brushing clumps of hair matted with blood from her face. "I got you."

            "Riddick?" He hopped up, nearly falling off his bed. "They're bleeding again." He swore. They were running out of gauze and Tylenol. He'd barely slept through the night, every movement she made waking him. Crouching next to her, he used the last bit of gauze to wipe away the small trickle of blood from an eye. He remained next to her bed for a moment, watching her shift uncomfortably, brows knitting in frustration. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

            "For what?" he asked quietly.

            "Everything." Her voice was breathy, too weak to be hers. "This. The shine. Just…" she sighed. "Everything."

            "You've got nothing to be sorry for." She whimpered, a violent shudder raking over her. "Cold?"

            "A little." He paused, not really sure what to do. "I'll be okay."

            "Sure?" She nodded. "Okay." He returned to his bed, stifling a groan as he retreated under his blanket.

            "Riddick?"

            "Yeah." He heard her sigh.

            "Twosy's dead, huh." She already knew. It wasn't a question.

            "Yeah."

            "He tried to stop them," she said quietly.

            "That's what I figured." A thought struck him. "What'd you do with that sweatshirt?" She was quiet for a minute.

            "I was wearing it."

            "Shit."

            "Yeah," she sighed. "That's what I said. Took my fuckin' pants and prison shirt too."

            "I know." She was quiet again, but not asleep. "You want those pants you stole for me?" he finally asked. Her breathing stopped for a moment.

            "You mind?" she asked timidly.

            "I'm not wearing them," he stated, standing to find them. "Here," he said, returning to her bedside. With his help, she stood, stepping into them with shaky legs. She gripped his shoulders, fingers digging in as he pulled them up for her. With a gasp, her knees gave out and she collapsed against him, trembling forcefully. A strong arm wrapped over her shoulder and around her side, and she held onto him as he stooped to loop his other arm around her quivering knees, lifting her and placing her gently back under her blanket. He pulled it over her, and her fingers curled around his.

            "Riddick?"

            "Yeah?" She sighed heavily, removing her hand from his.

            "Never mind," she said quietly. He stood over her for a minute.

            "You okay?" She shrugged.

            "I'll live." He nodded. _Not okay, but better than dead_. He took a breath, but she spoke first: "Will you…?" She stopped, swallowing.

            "You want me to stay with you?" She nodded slowly. "Are you sure?" Another small nod.

            "I feel safer with you," she whispered. 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

            She woke to a throat being cleared, fighting to gain her senses as she heard footsteps travel across the room, paper shuffle, some kind of rattling, and Riddick's gruff thank you.

            "Monkey?" she asked.

            "Yeah," Riddick said quietly, the paper crinkling louder. "Doc says he'll be by in a little while," he continued. "Sent over more gauze and pills." She nodded, tonguing the deep cut in her bottom lip. She dozed back off, waking later to clanging metal and ringing chains.

            "How you doin', Sarge?" Doc's voice asked. She groaned, slowly rolling over onto her side. "Can you sit up?" She tried, slowly sliding up the wall. "Good," Doc commented. She heard him shuffling around, one brow twitching downward as she tried to figure out what was going on. "Ready for a pill?"

            "Tylenol?"

            "No, sweetheart," he said quietly. The tone telling her what it was without having to say it.

            "Oh, right." She took the pill, drinking greedily.

            "Let's have a look at you." She felt his hands go around her head, slowly unwrapping the gauze Riddick had replaced a few hours earlier. Doc sucked in a breath, and she cringed. _Must be bad,_ she thought. "Didn't rip anything, that's good," he mumbled to himself. "Little more bruised that you should be, though."

            "Cut the shit, Doc," she snapped irritably.

            "Worked you over," he admitted. "Nice gash above your eyebrow – same place as a couple times ago. That one you stitched yourself." She nodded. "Lip's cut pretty bad too." She cringed as Doc inspected the swollen areas around her eyes. "I think you'll be okay."

            "You think?" Riddick asked quietly.

            "There's no way to tell for sure without having her open her eyes, and she's nowhere near ready for that yet," he said quietly, quickly stitching her eyebrow, and then putting a couple into her lip, just to be safe. Riddick nodded. Sarge sighed. "Hell, I don't even think you could with as swollen as they are."

            "I'm sorry, Doc," she said.

            "Not your fault they're assholes," he spat. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

            "Being born?" she asked with a smirk.

            "Oh, stop it," Doc snapped.

            "Getting caught and convicted?"

            "Well, maybe, but you don't deserve this." Her smile fell. "No one does." He sighed, replacing the bandages. "Listen to me, Sarge." She nodded. "Lots of water. Flush anything out that might have gotten in there. Keep taking the Tylenol – it'll help with the swelling. And stay warm. I brought you a sweatshirt and an old blanket I found."

            "Thanks," she croaked with a weak smile.

            "No problem."  She heard the door close and get locked, and slid down the wall onto her side with a heavy sigh.

            "I hate to keep you locked up in here with me," she said quietly.

            "Don't worry about it," Riddick returned.

            "You shouldn't have to do this," she pressed.

            "I don't." She wasn't sure what, if anything, she expected him to say, but that was the least expected response she could have considered.

            "Just because you're in prison doesn't mean you have to stay in your cage, Riddick," she insisted. "Not even for a lousy cellmate like me."

            "You're not a lousy cellmate," he interjected. She sighed.

            "Right." The bed gave as he sat next to her, leaning over her to brush her hair from her forehead.

            "Lousy cellmates don't help get over shit," he said quietly. She was speechless. "You have," he added, brushing his lips over hers. She cringed with a hiss, pulling away slightly. "Sorry." A tap on the door bars made them both jump. It was a guard.

            "What the fuck do you want now?" Riddick growled, rising to his full stature.

            "Open the showers for her," he guard mumbled. It was the guard who tried to talk another out of sending them to the hole.

            "I don't think she wants your sorry ass holding her up in there," Riddick snapped.

            "Both of you then," he said with a shrug. "Long as you don't pull anything, I don't mind."

            "Why?" Sarge asked quickly.

            "Look," the guard said, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I know what happens. I know it's shitty, but there's nothing I can do." He sighed. "Except offer you a shower." Riddick glared at him, then turned to Sarge.

            "You don't have to," he whispered. She thought for a minute.

            "Packin'?"

            "I can't hide a shiv without clothes," he said quickly. _Not much time to decide_, he figured.

            "Take one in with you. Keep it in a pile with your clothes, close," she instructed.

            "You sure?"

            "Yeah," she said with a slight nod. He turned back to the guard, walking to the door and leaning against the bars.

            "Long as you don't pull anything, you'll live," he threatened. The guard nodded, glancing at the lock. Riddick undid the chain, keeping an eye on the guard as he pulled Sarge from the bed and grabbed her bag, holding the soap. They walked down the hallway, other convicts staring, toward the shower room. The guard opened the door, gesturing for them to enter. "After you," Riddick said slowly. The guard shrugged and held the door open for them. "You watch, you die."

            "Got it," he said, finding a bench to sit on while he stared at the wall. Riddick lowered Sarge to the ground, her back facing the guard so he could watch him.

            "Let's make this fast," Riddick suggested. Sarge nodded, wobbling a little as she undressed. The water was barely warm enough, but better than nothing, and she stood under the spray while Riddick stripped, leaving the shiv on top of the pile of material within reach. He extracted the soap from her bag, and they showered quickly. Blood and grime ran down the drain, and soap never felt so damn good. They dressed as quickly as they could, which wasn't too fast, considering there was no way to dry off down here, and let the guard know they were done. He opened the door and walked through it, holding it open once more for them before letting it close and locking it. Convicts stared as Riddick helped Sarge walk back to the cell, half amazed they'd lived and the other half amazed the guard helped them out in a small way.

            "Feel better?" Riddick asked, once the cell door was securely locked and she'd crawled into bed. She nodded. He sat next to her, back to the wall, and she cuddled up to his chest, falling asleep quickly. His arm was around her shoulders, thumb absentmindedly stroking her arm slowly. Fellow convicts strolled by sporadically to get a glance, looking away when Riddick turned that icy glare on them. He wasn't sure if they'd become icons or targets.

            She woke slowly, painfully, to vibrations under her pillow. Her neck ached, a kink having formed while she slept. She shifted, and the vibrations stopped, her pillow moving slightly. A moment of quiet, and the mumbles continued. Slowly, the voices came into focus.

            "So he just let you in?" It was Balls.

            "Yeah. Don't know what to make of it," Riddick replied. "Didn't pull any shit either, which is worse."

            "Yeah, I hear ya," Balls responded. "Kinda makes me wonder what they're up to." Riddick shrugged. "They don't do shit like that out of the goodness of their fuckin' hearts."

            "Yeah, I know."

            "You know," Balls said thoughtfully, "they've probably figured out you've taken over now that Twosy's gone." Riddick grunted. "Twosy wasn't as much of a threat to them as you are."

            "He tried to keep us out of the hole, Balls. Maybe there's a tiny piece of fucking pity in him," Sarge mumbled. "Not common, but possible."

            "I don't know," Balls pressed. "I wouldn't count on anything."

            "What about the others?" Riddick asked. Balls' eyebrow rose. "Cons."

            "What about them?"

            "What's their take?" Balls didn't respond, so Riddick continued. "Either they think there's one humane guard out there or that we're buddying up." Balls sighed.

            "I don't know, man."

            "I'm not leaving this fucking cell until I find that out," Riddick stated. "Not taking the chance I'll get ghosted and not have anyone lookin' after her."

            "I'll be able to see in a few days, Riddick," Sarge groaned.

            "Assuming that beating they threw you didn't fuck it up," Riddick pointed out. She shrugged.

            "Not as sore. Not as swollen. Not bleeding any more. I'll be fine," she insisted.

            "Just because you feel fine right now doesn't mean you'll see fine when you open your eyes."

            "Then let me open my fucking eyes and let's find out, huh?" Riddick sighed. "Look, you and Doc both said I could open my eyes a couple days after the bleeding stopped," she pushed. "The bleeding stopped three days ago, Riddick."

            "She's got a point, Riddick," Balls ventured.

            "Of course I have a fucking point."

            "I don't know," Riddick said slowly.

            "Want me to go get the doc?" Balls offered.

            "Yeah, go get Doc, Balls," Sarge said quickly, before Riddick could say no.

            "Riddick?"

            "Yeah, sure, Balls. Go for it," Riddick sighed. She heard balls leave and propped herself up, working the kink out of her neck. It popped and she sighed in relief. They waited in silence until two pairs of feet stopped in the hallway, and Riddick rose to let them in, locking up behind them.

            "You sure about this, Sarge?" Doc asked.

            "Would I have drug your ass out of bed if I wasn't?" she snapped. Doc chuckled.

            "Alright, wraps first." He removed the gauze and inspected the skin, before telling her to go ahead. "Swelling's gone down quite a bit," he said. "Should be able to open them at least a little." She strained to pry them apart – little slits at first and then almost all the way open. She blinked a few times and then closed them tightly, shaking her head.

            "No?" Balls asked.

            "Gimme a minute," she said quietly, opening them again. Newly silvered irises flitted around the room, every now and then crossing. "Blurry," she mumbled, scrunching and shaking her head again.

            "Shaking's not gonna do anything," Riddick said. "You have to learn to focus again." She nodded, holding her hand in front of her face.

            "What do you see?" Doc asked, his voice gentle next to her.

            "Lots of pink. Little bit of purple. Little bit of blue. All swirled around."

            "We got color," Doc said, grinning.

            "Is that good?" Balls asked. Riddick nodded, face still serious.

            "Well," Doc said as he stood. "Looks like things are gonna be fine. Sarge," she turned her head toward his voice, eyes widening at the change of color. "Once you can focus, you and Riddick bring the goods." She nodded, suddenly planting her hands at her sides to keep from falling over.

            "Whoa," she muttered. "Dizzy." Riddick smirked. He knew that feeling. Riddick let Balls and Doc out, locking the chain behind them. When he turned, she was still staring around the room, one eye crossed. "Where are you?"

            "Right here," he said, not moving. She sighed.

            "I can't see a damn thing except god damn color." He snickered.

            "You'll learn eventually," he said, walking the short distance to her. "And you'll also learn what light feels like." Her brows knitted.

            "Don't you mean what light looks like?"

            "No," he said quickly, "feels like."

            "Hmm. That's kinda foreboding," she smarted, drawing another grin from Riddick. She heaved a sigh, scrunching her eyes shut. "I need something to stare at for a while. Something that I know what it is."

            "Like what?"

            "I dunno," she said with a shrug. She opened her eyes again, raising her hand in front of her face. A flash of color, and she jumped, then felt his hand close around hers.

            "Just me," he said gently, tugging on her arm. He led her to her bed, and she sat down, still grasping his hand as she laid back, pulling him down with her. They settled on their sides facing each other, and she stared up at him. He bit back the laughter, watching her eyes cross, uncross, one eye cross and straighten, the other eye cross and straighten. A few blinks, and more crossing and uncrossing. "You're crossing your eyes," he said leisurely, barely choking off a snicker.

            "Am I?"

            "Yep."

            "Shit." She let her eyes close and rubbed them. "Tell me when they're straight," she asked.

            "Just relax," he suggested. "Don't try so fuckin' hard." She sighed, opening them again and searching. "Right here," he said quietly, lifting her chin with a bent finger. He stared down into her eyes, watching her focus and unfocus.

            "This is aggravating," she said, frustrated.

            "Just give it time," he said with a shrug, watching her eyes widen. "Relax and see what you see." She sighed, burying her face in the pillow. He tucked her hair behind her ear. "We need to get you some protection," he said, thinking aloud.

            "Yeah, might be a good idea," she admitted. "We could probably talk Monkey into venturing out."

            "Locker rooms?"

            "Maybe," she said, opening her eyes again. Her lids narrowed as she tried focusing again, and she finally reached out, running nimble fingers over his face. "I can see my fingers," she said slowly, wiggling them in front of her face. "But stuff that's further away is too blurry." She sighed. Riddick smirked, leaning closer to her. "Wow. Hi," she said with a bright smile. "I can see you."

            "Can you?" She wrinkled her nose.

            "Kinda. Not really clearly, but something's there."

            "That's the big thing," he said, leaning back again. "Figuring out what's background and all." She stuck her lip out, and his eyebrow rose. "What?"

            "You disappeared." He chuckled, watching her scoot her body closer to his. Her vision fuzzed with her movement, and again when he shifted further down the bed, his face level with hers. "There you are," she said quietly. "There's your nose," she said, her finger wavering as she tried to touch. Her palm pressed to his cheek, thumb moving back and forth slowly. She watched in amazement, leaning a little closer. "Wow. Focus." He smiled, and she glanced down at the gesture, staring at it.

            "You're a fast learner," he said quietly, the smile falling. Her eyes shifted to his.

            "I can't see your glow," she said, sounding a little disappointed.

            "You will eventually," he responded, his eyes scanning her features as quickly as her eyes were his. "Once you get the hang of it, you'll see more than you did before." She nodded slowly, still absorbing the face she'd not seen in a good two weeks.

            "I missed this face," she whispered.

            "Did you?" She nodded, suddenly scrunching her eyes shut. "Oh yeah. Moving your head sucks at first."

            "I'm noticing that," she returned, slowly opening her eyes again.

            "How's the other stuff feeling?" he asked softly.

            "What, my forehead?" she asked, removing her hand from his cheek to run her fingers over the stitches. "Not too bad. Still a little tender, but not incapacitating." He smiled, his eyes shifting down to her lips.

            "And that lip you busted?" Her tongue darted out to feel the stitches, and she shrugged. "Still a little swollen, looks like."

            "Maybe a little. Doesn't hurt though."

            "No?" Her eyes locked on his so her vision wouldn't blur as she shook her head. She made a mental note. "Not even a little?"

            "Not even a random twinge," she said slowly, watching his tongue slide lazily over his bottom lip. _Good God,_ she thought.

            "The stitches aren't itchy at all?" She only stared at the lip he just licked, watching the corners curl upwards the slightest bit. His hand traveled up her arm to press into the side of her neck. "Your pulse is racing," he commented quietly. "You been taking something other than Tylenol while I wasn't looking?"

            "You mean when I wasn't looking?" she asked with a smirk. "How the fuck would I do that when I had my eyes wrapped shut?" He shrugged, watching her eyes scrunch shut again. "Don't do that," she mumbled.

            "Do what?"

            "Move," she complained. "It's confusing."

            "I know." Her eyes opened, eventually focusing on his.

            "You're playing with me," she said slowly.

            "Took you long enough to figure out," he returned. She forced a smile, letting it fall as quickly at it had surfaced. His thumb trailed over the stitches in her lip, and he watched for even the slightest flinch. "Not even a little itch."

            "Stitches don't bother me at all," she said slowly. "And you're still toying with me." His eyebrow arched. "I'm losing my patience."

            "What're you gonna do when it's gone?" he asked, another wicked smile gracing his lips.

            "Keep it up and find out the hard way," she warned, face stern. His smile fell, her vision blurring as he leaned forward slowly. "I lost focus again," she sighed.

            "Fuck the focus." She blinked quickly, and then her eyes slammed shut as his lips brushed lightly over hers. He put no pressure against her, merely touching. Neither moved for a moment – he didn't want to hurt her lip, and she didn't want to force a kiss not knowing if that was his intention. Finally he caught her top lip between his, and she sucked in a breath, clamping onto his lower lip. It wasn't a demanding kiss, both moving slowly and deliberately, hesitantly even, as they worked against each other. She pulled away first, moving slowly to bring him into focus.

            "That wasn't me," she whispered.

            "What wasn't you?"

            "You did that." He nodded, watching her eyes widen as she tried to lock onto her vision. "Why?"

            "I wanted to." Her eyebrow twitched, and he glanced up at it.

            "Twinge," she said with a slight shrug. Her eyes closed again, and she rubbed, a slight groan escaping her. "My eyes are tired."

            "I know," he said quietly.

            "Getting a headache."

            "I know. Just rest them." She nodded with a light sigh. He felt her flinch as he kissed each eyelid, a low chuckle breaking the silence. A small smile played on her lips, and he leaned forward for another short taste.  "Go to sleep," he said gently. She nodded, burrowing deeper into the pillow with a contented sigh.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

            Riddick couldn't help but laugh. She was sitting on her bed in the corner, just watching things. Someone would walk by and she'd jump, then narrow her eyes to work on her focus. He remembered that feeling – experiencing the same things you've experienced before, but having to learn how to do it all over again with it looking completely different. She sighed, rubbing her eyes.

            "I'm wearing myself out," she groaned, flopping over onto her side. Her eyelashes fluttered open, searching him out. He smiled, and she returned it. "I see you," she said quietly.

            "That's scary," he said with a snicker. It usually wasn't a welcome phrase in a dark prison. Her eyebrow arched evilly.

            "I'm bored," she blurted, face falling. He sighed.

            "I know."

            "I want to do something."

            "I know you do," he groaned. "But you can't yet." She groaned, sitting up slowly.

            "Why?" she whined. He only looked at her, and she glared back at him. "Don't look at me in that tone of voice." He couldn't keep the small smirk at bay. "How about a trip to the canteen?"

            "You don't have any shades," he pointed out. "It's too bright in there." She openly pouted, prompting a sigh. "Monkey's supposed to stop by later," he said with a shrug. "Ask him then." She nodded, suddenly taken with a string on the hem of her prison issue shirt. "Do some yoga," he suggested. She shrugged. "Aw, come on. You can't be that bad at it," he nudged. Her eyes snapped to his angrily.

            "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He shrugged.

            "Why are you so shy about doing it in front of someone?"

            "I'm not," she said slowly. "I just don't want to right now."

            "Don't want to do it in front of someone right now, or don't want to do it at all right now?" She sighed, shaking her head. He snickered. "Performance anxiety."

            "Shut up," she snapped. She glanced up at him every now and then, and he just watched her. "I need a fucking punching bag or something," she said quickly. "Maybe I can get a bag somewhere and stuff it with something." She glanced up, and his eyes followed hers. "Hang it from the rafters."

            "Maybe," he responded with a shrug.

            "You know," she started, leaning back against the damp wall. "When I was younger I always thought it'd be cool to be in prison." His eyebrows rose quizzically. "No job, no chores, no responsibility." She shook her head. "Didn't think I'd be so fucking bored." Riddick chuckled. "Do you know what it took to get that damn book?" she asked, nodding at the book on a makeshift table between their beds. He only looked at her, waiting. "Ten cigarettes and surviving a melee in the cage."

            "The cage," Riddick said slowly.

            "Oh, you've not been to the fights yet." His eyebrow rose. "We'll have to go sometime." She shrugged. "So you can see what it's all about. You'd probably get off on it."

            "Why's that?" She grinned, still playing with the string. A shrug of the shoulder, and no answer. "When are they?"

            "Depends," she said, glancing up at him and back down at the string. "Word gets around the day before, usually." He nodded slowly. She sighed, giving up on entertainment by string. She rubbed her eyes and flopped onto her back, crossing her arms behind her head. "So bored."

            "Hungry?" She shrugged a little. "Want me to bring something back for you?"

            "Sure," she said, glancing up at him as he stood.

            "Stay here," he warned, pointing a finger at her. Her eyebrow rose.

            "I wasn't planning on going anywhere," she said innocently.

            "Better not," he threw over his shoulder, locking the chain up behind him. She watched him disappear and sighed, staring back up at the ceiling, letting her eyes close. She slowly drifted off, snoring lightly.

            A few hours later, she woke suddenly, the flashing of the flickering lights shining through her eyelids. She glanced around the cell quickly, even looking up into the rafters. Riddick wasn't back yet.

            "Hey Balls?" she called. He yelled back. "Do you know where Riddick went?"

            "I haven't seen him since yesterday," he answered. She swore. "Why?"

            "Looks like he's spending the night somewhere else. He's not back yet." Balls didn't answer, so she turned her attention back to the ceiling with a heavy sigh. "Fucker," she muttered, crawling under the covers to go back to sleep. It amazed her how much more sleepy she was the more she slept. Seemed like she should be more alert, but it never worked that way. When she woke late the next morning, he still wasn't back. With a loud stretch, she finally stood, suddenly feeling the urge to swallow her pride and do some yoga. When she was coming out of a complicated and rather twisted pose, Riddick was leaning against the door, leaning on forearms pushed through the bars.

            "So it is performance anxiety then?" he asked slyly. She glared at him, stretching her arms overhead and bending backwards until her hands touched. Her abs flexed as one leg was raised straight up, followed by the other. His eyebrow rose, intrigued as her arms bent slowly, and her back arched slightly, allowing her to look at his knees. He noted her arms shaking slightly as her back's curve deepened, legs slowly curling toward her head. She held the pose, splayed hands pressing into the ground so hard her knuckles were white.

            "Scorpion," she said slowly, voice strained by the pose. He nodded, eyes still pouring over her. She inhaled deeply, still staring at his knees. Her ankles followed her knees overhead, back to straight in the air, and then the rest of her back straightened. All of her weight was still supported on her hands and forearms, but she was now looking away from him. She pressed back up onto her hands slowly as she inhaled slowly, arms quivering only slightly from the strain. She turned to the side slowly, walking on her hands. Her knees bent to right angles, one foot pointing away from her head and her other knee pointing to her nose. The foot slowly reached the ground, resting there as she adjusted her toes before the other followed, her ribcage still straight above her head, the arch at her sternum curving sharply. He shook his head, intrigued, but his eyebrows rose when her neck curved back, her eyes now focusing on her heels. Her stomach was hollowed, moving in and out shallowly as she breathed quickly. She didn't hold that pose as long as she did the scorpion, abs flexing again as she walked her feet toward her head to bend her knees before kicking them back over and collapsing into a ball on her knees, clasping her hands under her butt over her feet, forehead resting on the ground.

            "We could make some money off that, you know?" He said quietly. She chuckled a little, still not moving from the fetal position. He unlocked the chain and entered, leaving the door open behind him. "How long did it take you to learn that?"

            "I don't know," she said, voice muffled by the stone flooring. "People think yoga's all about flexibility, but it's also about strength and endurance," she explained. "Most of the fun poses are the strength and balance poses, not necessarily the flexibility ones," she said with a shrug, rolling her spine slowly to sit.

            "Those poses were all three," he said quietly, leaning back against the wall. She nodded.

            "That's why I like them."

            "Show me another one," he asked. Her eyebrow rose.

            "I'm tired, Riddick," she said, groaning as she stood.

            "Aw, come on," he pressed. "Just one more." She sighed. "Please?" She blinked a few times. She thought for a moment.

            "Okay, fine," she huffed, lying on the ground on her stomach. "I won't be able to talk or look at you without killing myself," she said quickly, glancing over at him. He chuckled. "I'm fucking serious. Don't make me laugh, don't ask me anything or I'll seriously hurt myself." He watched her shift her hands under her body, lifting her head to rest on her chin. "This is locust, by the way," she added, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. Her arms flexed as she let it out slowly, and his eyebrows rose as she began to quiver, feet rising slightly off the ground. They paused for a moment as she inhaled again, moving a little more as she inhaled. He watched for a long time, her back arching more and more as her feet got closer and closer to the ceiling. Her arms were shaking violently when she got to the goal of the pose, resting only on her chin and the tops of her arms, hands clasped, with her back arched into a graceful curve, toes pointing to the ceiling, her heels a straight line above her head. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he watched her steady the pose, though her arms still quivered a little. Every muscle in her body was flexed as much as it could to hold her still, and she inhaled sharply as she slowly got herself out of the pose, lying sprawled on her stomach, breath heaving.

            "I'm impressed." Riddick's eyes rose to meet Balls'. She didn't acknowledge his presence.

            "How long were you standing there?" Riddick asked.

            "When her feet were about this high off the ground," Balls answered, stooping to hold his hand about a foot off the ground. "I didn't know you did yoga," he said, looking back down at Sarge. She lifted a hand and let it drop to the ground. Balls chuckled. They watched her lay there for a while, glancing up at each other every now and then.

            "Where were you?" She asked finally, slowly pushing herself off the ground to look at Riddick.

            "Out," he said plainly. She rolled her eyes.

            "Well, obviously," she retorted. His eyes shifted over to Balls and back to hers quickly. She shook her head. "He's fine," she said quietly. Riddick reached into an unseen pocket and produced a pair of tinted swimming goggles. Her eyes widened, and he held them out to her on a crooked finger. She quickly snatched them away.

            "Where the fuck did you find these?"

            "Went for a walk," he said with a shrug. Her eyes snapped to his, finally understanding. "Decided to sleep in the, uh, vent when the lights flickered."

            "Smart move," Balls said, taking a seat on Sarge's bed. "I had to do that a few times," he offered. "Went out to see if I could track down some decent food and got lost." Sarge snickered. "By the time I found my way back, it was the middle of lockdown, so I just stayed behind the grate until the lights came on."

            "I remember that," Sarge said, still smiling. "I'm hungry," she said quickly, leaping to her feet. "Let's go to the…" She paused, smacking a hand to her forehead as she fell forward onto Riddick's bed. "Canteen," she finished, the mattress on the cot muffling her voice.

            "Stand up too fast?" Balls asked, biting back a snicker. She groaned, finally rolling onto her side. She sat slowly, wobbling a bit before regaining her balance.

            "Whoo. I'm okay now," she said, standing slowly. Riddick just smirked at her, and she glanced between him and Balls. "Well, I'm going to the canteen. Y'all can just stay here and stare at each other if you want to," she said with a shrug.

            "I've got some business to attend to," Balls commented, turning to head back down the hallway. She turned back to Riddick, and he pried himself from the wall to follow her to the canteen, watching her adjust the goggles several times before being satisfied enough to leave them on. Her nose wrinkled as she picked up a bowl of slop, turning to pick out the cleanest of grungy tables. He examined the bowls before him and finally picked one out, not like it mattered much. They trudged through their meals, neither speaking. Her spoon fell with a clatter into her bowl, and she let out a disgruntled sigh, leaning forward on her elbows

            "Now what?" she asked. He shrugged, leaning back in his chair, folding his hands over a gurgling stomach. Boots stopped in the doorway, and she glanced over her shoulder, eyebrow raising. She sighed, leaning back in her chair and kicking her feet onto the chair between her and Riddick. "Fuck," she muttered, watching the burly man grin at her before selecting a bowl of goo.

            "It's the Bobsy twins," the man snickered, pointing between the two of them. She shook her head, an unamused smirk curling her lips.

            "Hey, look," she growled, "It's Raven's fuck buddy." The guy curled his lip at her, kicking her boots off the chair. "I was comfortable with my feet up," she ground out, her glare hidden behind tinted plastic. "Ass," she added quietly.

            "What was that, Sarge?" She shook her head, shrugging as though she'd not said anything. "Who's your friend, here?" he asked. She glanced at Riddick, turning back to the man slowly.

            "Why the fuck do you care?"

            "Just wondered," he said collapsing into the chair once occupied by her booted feet. "Looks like a good candidate," he finished. She snickered.

            "You don't want him, Daisy," she laughed quietly.

            "Why's that?"

            "You'd lose money on him," she said flatly. "I know you, remember?" Riddick's eyebrow rose, just listening to the exchange. "You'd throw him in and bet on your own guys." She lifted her metal cup to her lips, shaking her head as she took a small sip of tepid water. "Definitely lose money," she added.

            "Does he talk?" She only shrugged, perching her chin on her shoulder to look at Riddick.

            "Feel like talking?" she asked him, eyebrow still quirked. He shrugged.

            "You got a name, man?" the guy asked him. He opened his mouth, but she cut him off quickly.

            "Does he need one?"

            "Don't be a bitch, Sarge."

            "You know, most people here would take offense to that," she commented. "You're fucking lucky I'm actually a bitch and know it, or I might have to kick your ass." He snickered, and she scowled. "Again." He straightened up quickly, managing a quick glance at Riddick, which didn't go unnoticed.

            "You better watch that mouth," he said, standing slowly. "I might just have to make sure it's too full for you to talk." Riddick's chair scraped as he stood quickly, crossing his arms over his chest with a menacing glare. "Where you goin'?"

            "It's okay," she said quietly, "he knows better than to fuck with me again."

            "You sure about that?" Daisy drawled, lips curling back into a sneer.

            "If you've got half the brain you didn't waste with all that shit Davis sold you, yeah," she spat, "I better be."

            "I guess we'll see," he said, crossing his arms and glancing Riddick up and down. "Why don't you grace us with an appearance tomorrow night, Sarge?" She snickered, playing with her spoon in her bowl. "I can set something fair up for you."

            "Fair my ass," she snorted. "You don't know the meaning of the word."

            "Take a chance," he pressed.

            "The lady said no," Riddick growled. The man glanced up at him, surprised.

            "So he does talk," he grinned.

            "Yeah," she said, "and it's not usually a good thing." Daisy's smile fell slowly.

            "What, are you her fucking body guard or some shit?" Riddick only cocked his head to the side, expression still unreadable.

            "Tell you what, Daisy." She stood to her full height, sliding her hands into her pockets. He watched the movement, knowing she was going for something. "I'll do it. You set me up with Duke." Daisy's lips curled into a wicked smile. "Keep the lights low, and stay the fuck out of it."

            "Deal," he said after a moment's thought. "But what's with the lights?" She smirked, shaking her head, turning to walk away.

            "You'll see," she said quietly. Daisy glanced up at Riddick, watching him stare as he followed her, leaving Daisy standing in the canteen. 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

            "What was that all about?" Riddick asked, grasping her elbow as she walked down the hall. She whirled around, jerking her arm from his hand, staring up at him for a moment before continuing down the corridor. He stormed in behind her, glaring down at her as she folded herself onto her bed. "What the hell are you doing?"

            "Sitting," she said, adjusting her pillow under her head.

            "What the fuck was that?"

            "Daisy." His eyebrow rose, and she shrugged.

            "Want to tell me more?"

            "Why does it matter?" she groaned, closing her eyes. He ripped his goggles from his head, standing over her, hands on his hips. She sighed. "He's the matchmaker."

            "The matchmaker," Riddick repeated.

            "Yeah," she said, opening her eyes again, lifting her head to remove her goggles as well. "Fights."

            "Shit, Sarge," Riddick groaned, tossing his goggles onto his bed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

            "What, you don't think I know what I'm getting into?" she snapped, sitting up slightly. "You don't know what I'm getting into."

            "Why?"

            "Because I want to," she barked, eyes flashing angrily. "Why do you care, anyway?"

            "You're fucking crazy," he retorted, collapsing onto his bed.

            "Don't tell me you're trying to protect me, Riddick," she said angrily. "Don't fucking tell me you care about me and want to keep me safe." He glared at her. "We both know that's a god damn lie," she finished, shifting onto her back again.

            "The fuck it is," he said quietly.

            "What was that?"

            "I said, the fuck it is," he growled, sitting up suddenly. She shook her head, jaw tightening. "Why else would I have stayed locked up in here to make sure you lived through that fucking shine job? Why the fuck would I spent the night in a fucking vent to steal you some fucking protection." She shushed him, glancing out into the hallway. He shook his head, snorting in frustration. "Is there anywhere to having a fucking conversation in private?" He'd said it merely out of exasperation, but the quick, nervous glance she gave him piqued his interest. "Spill it, Kody," he demanded. She sighed, shaking her head.

            "I don't know if it's still there," she said quietly.

            "If what's still where?" He rose slowly, walking to stand over her. She closed her eyes, covering them with a hand.

            "There used to be a little hidey hole a couple hallways down," she admitted quietly.

            "Were you planning on telling me that?" She removed her hand, staring up at him sharply.

            "I don't have a fucking reason to," she snapped. His eyes narrowed, and she sighed again, more heavily this time. "No one else knows." She cringed. "Now."

            "Twosy." She nodded. "Show me." Her eyes closed – she knew she was beat, so she nodded slightly. He backed up, watching her stand, and reached out, wrapping a hand around her throat loosely and backing her into the wall between their beds. Her fingers twined around his hand, pulling, her other hand pressed against his chest as he pushed closer to her. "Listen to me carefully," he said quietly, leaning down to speak into her ear. She nodded vigorously. "You set me up, I'll kill you slowly."

            "The thought hadn't crossed my mind," she said carefully, turning to look up at him. "Let me go, and I'll show you." He released her, still hovering in front of her. She shoved past him, snatching up her goggles as she went. He followed closely. She crouched at a corner, peeking around into the lit hallway. She shook her head, pausing. Another quick glance, and she darted across the hall, watching him repeat her action and follow. She took him down another hallway, finally stopping in front of small grate in a niche in the wall. Her arm shot out to her side, her hand flattened against his chest, pushing him flat against the wall. Footsteps passed, and she glanced up at him quickly, stooping down to remove the grate. "It'll be a tight fit for you," she whispered. His eyebrow rose, but he quickly learned she was right. It was a short, narrow passage into a small room. He looked around as she replaced the grate, loosely securing two bolts. Four canisters were leaned in a corner, along with some clothing and a couple of small bags. She stood, slowly turning to face him, a nervous expression clouding her face.

            "Talk," he growled. She sighed, sinking to the floor, leaning against the wall with her knees pulled to her chest.

            "Twosy and I had a plan," she admitted quietly. "All we needed was a screw driver, and we couldn't seem to find one." She shrugged, wrapping her arms around her legs.

            "A plan for what?" Her eyes darted up to his before staring down at her fingers clasped around her knees. A low rumble vibrated in his chest as he nodded. "And then the guards killed him." She nodded, swallowing with a sour look on her face. "And now?"

            "Mission aborted," she said lowly.

            "You found the way to the hangar?" he asked. She nodded slightly. "How?"

            "Anders had the blueprints sitting on his desk, one of the times he…" she trailed off, closing her eyes.

            "You snatched it." She shook her head. "What, then?"

            "Photographic memory." His eyebrow rose, and she glanced up at him, knowing the pink glow in his eyes was her reflection. "I just had to glance at it."

            "Interesting."

            "No point now," she sighed, rubbing her forehead.

            "Why?"

            "Twosy's dead," she said thickly. "I can't go by myself. Can't pilot."

            "I can." Her eyes lifted to his, mulling his words over.

            "What, so I can get you out and you go your way and leave me behind? Fuck that," she spat. He crouched in front of her.

            "Look at me," he demanded. She shook her head, still focused on her knees. He reached out, grasping her chin despite her efforts to get away. "I wouldn't leave you here."

            "No, you'll leave me at the first stop," she ground out. His eyes closed, breath leaving him suddenly. Her eyebrow rose, not knowing what that was all about, but didn't ask.

            "Can we get everyone out?"

            "Everyone as in who?" He looked at her sharply, and she shook her head. "It's a sneak job," she explained. "Two at the most." He nodded.

            "And no one else knows?" She shook her head. "We go after the next shower," he instructed.

            "We need a screwdriver."

            "I'll get one," he said quickly. She blinked. "Phillips?" A small nod. "That gives us four days. I'll have one by then." She sighed, running her hands over her arms. He covered them with hers. "Can it really be done?" he asked after a moment.

            "With a little luck, maybe."

            "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked quietly, watching her wrap her wrists. She gave him a confident nod before bending down to wrap her ankles. She popped her neck, standing to turn, lifting a foot onto the bed to stretch. He watched, eyebrow perched at an angle. "What's this Duke guy like?" She shrugged, dodging the question.

            "You'll find out," she said softly, switching legs. "Don't worry about me," she said firmly. "I'll be fine."

            "Have you fought him before?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and he took it as a no. "Just remember we have showers in a few days," he warned.

            "I know that, Riddick," she said quickly. "I have to go." She tugged her prison issue over her head and walked to the door, pausing before turning slightly. "Are you gonna be there?" He nodded once.

            "Yeah," he said, "I'll be there." She nodded in satisfaction and was gone. He ran a hand over his face, resting his chin in the angle of this thumbs pressed together, index fingers resting on his nose.

            "What's up?" Balls stood in the hallway, hands shoved into his pockets. He stepped into the cell to avoid a group of convicts chasing someone down the hall, glaring at them as they passed. Riddick sighed.

            "She's going to the fights." Balls whistled.

            "Going to or participating in?" Riddick's eyes closed and Balls sat slowly, dropping his head between his shoulders. "Who's she fighting?"

            "Some guy named Duke."

            "Shit," Balls breathed, lifting his head to look over at Riddick. Riddick's eyes snapped up to his.

            "What's that supposed to mean?"

            "Duke's a big guy," Balls said, shaking his head slowly. "Got a good record in the cage," he continued. "Took out three guys in a melee by himself."

            "Took out as in…"

            "Killed," Balls said quietly. "Didn't have to snap their necks or anything. Just beat them to death." Riddick swore under his breath. "She's got a beef with him," he explained with a small shrug. "He fucked her over, she got even."

            "How?"

            "Severed deals with other people he went to. They didn't like it, so they quit dealing with him so they could stay in her good graces." Riddick nodded. _Smart girl,_ he thought.

            "She got a chance?"

            "Maybe."

            Sarge stood leaned in a corner of the cage, eyes closed, as the crowd poured in, the self-appointed referee, Daisy, standing between her and Duke. Riddick concealed himself in a shadowed corner, the floor slightly raised above the rest of the area. She had a peaceful expression on her face, just standing there, arms crossed over her chest, one foot pressed against the chain link cage. Duke was a whole different story. He paced back and forth, eyes locked on Sarge as he moved, hands clenched. His arms were covered in prison tattoos, half of them naked women and the other half just violent pictures. Riddick scowled. He was a big guy, at least three times Sarge's size, and had a good four inches on her height-wise.

            "Fellow convicts," Daisy yelled. The mob churned, yelling obscenities and encouragement to Duke. "Tonight we have a treat." A lazy, twisted grin slid over the man's face. "The Sergeant has decided to once again grace us with a performance. And Duke here, has accepted a challenge from the little lady." A scowl flashed across her face, but as quickly as it appeared it was replaced with the expressionless face placed there before. The lights dimmed slightly, and a roar ran through the crowd. "At her request," he continued, gesturing at Sarge, "We have a little bit of mood lighting for the evening. And as always, anything goes. Place your bets with one of my trusty associates," a cheer erupted, " and let the games begin." He backed out of the cage, wrapping a chain through the metal links to secure the door. Riddick sighed, crossing his arms. Duke continued his pacing, and she continued standing there. The crowd started chanting, and Duke took a couple of steps forward, pausing when her eyes opened slowly, head lowered to stare at him from under knitted eyebrows.

            "Freak," Duke muttered, and a lazy, sadistic smile crept onto Sarge's face as she pushed away from the chain link, popping her neck as she took her stance. He lunged at her, the crowd exploding, but she caught him in the nose with the heel of her hand, sending him reeling backwards out of surprise. She cuffed her nose, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet before returning to her stance. He growled, rushing her again, this time slammed with a fist to the sternum, followed by a kick to the side of the head. This time, though, he didn't back up, landing a few of his own, finally tackling her to the ground, pinning her under him. "They're gonna get a show tonight," he growled in her ear. His last word ended with a squeak as her knee drove into his crotch, her foot planting and pushing upwards, flipping him off her to sprawl on the floor of the cage. She kipped up, shaking it off. Duke rolled around on the floor for a while, holding his precious package, howling in pain. She dropped her fists, calmly walking over to him and kicking, making him double up, the wind knocked out of him.

            "Get up, you motherfucker," she spat, kicking the back of his neck. He slowly got to his feet with a groan. He ran toward her, but she took a step to the side, swinging her leg around to make a connection between her heel and his throat. He fell to the ground, gasping and wheezing. "And here I heard you were a good fighter," she mocked, throwing her hands in the air. "What do you think, guys?" she yelled, glancing around at the crowd, which roared in response. Two silver dots caught her eye, and she stared back at him, eyes narrowing. An arm went around her neck, wrenching her backwards, and her eyes scrunched closed in pain as a knee connected with her side, her nails tearing into the skin of the arm around her.

            "Big mistake challenging a big guy like me," he whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek as he throttled her.

            "You really need a fucking toothbrush," she gritted, waiting for the right moment. Just as she thought she was going to pass out, it came, and she suddenly bent at the waist, sending him flying over her shoulder into the fence, a foot catching in a broken link. He flipped forward, his knee dislocating at the angle of his fall, prompting a scream. She sat on her knees for a while, arms quivering under her as she gasped in precious air. Her head lifted and she glared at Duke, hanging upside down from the fence, still howling in pain. She slowly got to her feet, staggering a bit as she walked toward him. His hands were busy trying to find a way to pull himself up to untangle his ankle. "A shower wouldn't hurt either," she whispered into his ear, watching him freeze. His eyes met hers, his face reflected back to him and she stood slowly, walking a circle around the cage before pulling her elbow across his body and jamming it into his chest, ribs cracking. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and nose as he grasped his chest, the impact interrupting his heart's electrical current enough to induce a heart attack. "Pussy," she mumbled under her breath, popping her neck again. Daisy entered the cage, and she stared him down as he walked past her to inspect Duke's body. He walked back to her, parking in front of her. Her eyebrow twitched, and he reached out, raising her arm over her head. The crowd burst into cheers. "I told you not to fuck with me," she muttered to Daisy.

            "Maybe next time I'll take you seriously," he said quietly, letting her arm drop. She stared him down for a while, finally stalking to the door and wrenching it open, shoving her way through the crowd, receiving pats on the back, some convicts copping a feel. She let it slide, forcing her way past the undulating mob and into the empty hallways to stand in the middle of the cell, eyes closed as she took a deep, shaky breath, and let it out slowly. She felt him standing behind her, but didn't turn.

            "You okay?" he asked quietly. She worked her head back and forth, easing the tension in her shoulders, not answering. He took a step forward, reaching out.

            "Don't," she said quickly, making him pause. "Don't touch me," she whispered, shaking her head.

            "Are you okay?" he repeated.

            "Yeah," she said after a beat. "I'm fine." His eyebrow rose. Her head dropped, her hands rising to rest on her hips, ribs heaving with her labored breathing as she leaned forward a little.

            "You're a lousy liar," he commented quietly. She shrugged, then let out a rattling cough, turning her head to hack into the hallway, then wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with the wraps on her wrist. She wavered a bit and felt his hand on her back, steadying her. On instinct, she swung around, her forearm slamming him into the bars.

            "Don't fucking touch me right now," she growled. He held his hands up, and she gave him another shove before whirling around, dropping to her knees, forehead resting on the ground. "Leave," she whispered. "Just leave." He backed out of the cell, retreating to the shadows. She crawled over to the bars, slowly pulling herself off the floor with a weak whimper, holding her side. Slowly, she staggered down the hallway toward the canteen, stopping to heave into a dark corner, once again falling to the ground, a frustrated groan echoing down the hallway. She pressed her head into the cold stone beneath her, face twisted in agony as she teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. A few minutes passed while she lay in the floor, small cries escaping intermittently. She felt herself lifted off the ground by a pair of large arms and carried down a maze of hallways. 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

            Her eyes opened slowly, focus not coming easily. She groaned, rolling onto her side as she squeezed her eyes shut again. A finger trailed over her forehead and she whimpered, pulling back slightly, but the hand didn't retreat. She pried her eyes back open, jerking backwards when the face coming into focus wasn't Riddick.

            "Nice shine," he said quietly.

            "What the fuck do you want?" she snapped, coughing violently as she tried to sit up.

            "Easy," he murmured, reaching out. She held out a hand, and his arm stopped, still hovering over the bed.

            "I asked you a god damn question," she rasped, eyes narrowing at him. "You might want to fucking answer it before I lose my patience." He clicked his tongue at her, and she glanced over him, searching for weapons.

            "I'm clean," he said quietly, nodding at the counter where his array of hardware was strewn.

            "What. Do. You. Want," she repeated, biting off each word to stand on its own.

            "I don't want anything," he said. She glared at him, and he smiled slightly. "Are you okay?"

            "Fine. Take me back," she grunted, trying to push herself off the bed. His hands gripped her shoulders, forcing her back down just as another cough raked over her.

            "You're not fine," he insisted. "Take it easy. You're safe here."

            "Like hell I am," she spat, batting his arms away. "Take me back."

            "Just rest for a while. I'll take you back in a while," he promised. She blinked.

"Why are you doing this?" He sighed, standing. She eyed him, watching him walk to the small kitchen and remove a mug from the microwave. _Ceramic,_ she thought. _A real fucking mug._

"Here," he said, holding the cup out to her. She glanced at it and back to him. "It's hot tea. It'll help the cough." She only stared at it warily, prompting another small smile from him. "Green tea with honey." A shaky hand reached out and took it from him, bringing the steam under her nose. _Smells okay_. Another glance back up at him as she took a sip. _Tastes okay._ "Are you hungry?" She shook her head, just as her stomach decided to growl. He chuckled lightly, rummaging through the refrigerator. "Special requests?"

"Vegetarian," she said quietly.

"Really?" He turned with the question, eyebrows raised in surprise. She nodded slightly. "I won't tell you what they put in the, uh," he cleared his throat.

"I know what they put in it," she said quietly, choking back a wretch. "Don't give us much of a choice do you?" His brow furled at his indirect involvement.

"There's a few of us out there who know the system's fucked up," he said quietly. She snickered. "Not much we can do about it, really." He held out a small tub of potato salad with a fork stuck in it.

"You really want to trust me with the fork?" she asked quietly, eyebrow arched. He shrugged, watching her eyes shift back to the food before she snatched it away from him. Once again, she sniffed it. Hunger won, and her fingers closed around the fork. Her eyes closed as the taste hit her, stomach gurgling happily. She moaned. Food never tasted so good. "They'll fire you," she warned.

"I know."

"Probably throw you in."

"Nah," he said with a shrug. "Probably just kill me." She couldn't help but snicker. "If they find out," he added. She looked him over.

"They know about that tat?" she asked quietly, nodding at a small mark on his arm exposed by the gray wife beater he wore. He glanced down at it, a heavy sigh finally seeping through his lips. She grinned evilly. "You're an ex-con," she blurted. He cringed. "You're the fucking liar here," she scoffed. "Where were you?"

"Thaler Two."

"Minimum," she said with a shrug. "What'd you do?"

"Involuntary manslaughter." She nodded.

"Self defense?" she asked. His turn to nod, but only slightly. "That explains a lot," she said, poising the loaded fork in front of her while she spoke. He shrugged. "Riddick's gonna shit."

"Don't tell him," he said warily.

"Why not?" He took a breath and stopped, glancing at her before looking away quickly. Her eyebrow rose. "If you tell me you were at Thaler Two with him and he had a beef I'll know you're lying," she warned.

"No, that's not…" he paused, glancing at her again. "That's not it."

"Out with it then," she pressed. "Why the fuck shouldn't I tell him?"

"I don't exactly want to be on his bad side," he said finally. She laughed.

"See, I would think him knowing this would put you on his good side," she pointed out. Her smile fell slowly, and she played with the potato salad. "Thanks for the shower, by the way," she said quietly. He nodded, both falling silent.

"When?" he asked suddenly. She jumped.

"When what?" He glanced up at her sharply, but she didn't give in.

"How do you think Twosy got the security codes?" She swallowed, looking down at her potato salad.

"He told me he swiped them off a snoozer."

"Never told you, huh?" She shook her head. He sighed. "Check under his bed. There's a loose brick under there somewhere." Her eyes met his. "Screwdriver's in there."

"Fuck," she spat. "He was gonna leave me once I got him there, wasn't he?"

"I don't know," the guard said. "But I do know why he needed you in the first place." She nodded. "Must be nice."

"Not really," she said, shaking her head. "Kinda gets crowded in there after a while."

"How does it work?"

"I don't know," she said, mystified herself. "Most of the time I just have to think back and focus, but sometimes pictures just pop in my head and I can't get rid of them. Gets annoying sometimes." He nodded, and she cocked her head to the side. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Chris," he said quietly. "Chris Meyer." She nodded.

"Company killed your wife," she said plainly, deriving a small amount of pleasure from his cringe. "So, what, you're running a prison style underground railroad here?" He shook his head. "What's the deal then?"

"Guilt."

"For what?"

"Having a part in treating you all this way," he said quietly. She frowned.

"Why the fuck did you come back anyway? I would think a prison would be the last place an ex-con would want to work."

"Got recruited. Didn't have a job and the money sounded too good to turn down."

"They recruited you," she said in disbelief.

"I have a friend on Helion Two that's a hacker genius," he muttered. "Changed my name for me."

"Convenient." He nodded slightly, still staring at his hands.

"Dennis Whitaker. Ask for Whitty at Mud's Pub in Demetria," he instructed. Her eyebrow rose. "He's expecting you to show up eventually."

"And what do you get in return?" she asked slowly.

"Absolution."

"I don't believe you." He sighed.

"Didn't think you would, but I figured I'd try anyway." The expression her eyes granted his glance made him think twice. "I get a good cut of the business I sent him."

"So who sent me?"

"He knows you." She nodded. "Riddick might be a problem though."

"What makes you think he's coming with me?" she snapped. He only looked at her. "Why is he gonna be a problem?"

"He's not expected." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I'll try to contact him."

"Too dangerous," she said quietly. "I'll deal with him." He took a breath to argue, but she sent him a glance that shut him up.

"So when is it happening?"

"I won't know until it does," she lied. The information was nice, but she still didn't trust him enough to tell him all the details. She might if she found the screwdriver.

"I'll sneak you a couple of concussion guns into that room Twosy found." _Score. Still don't trust him though._ "If you go at night there'll be less security in and around the hangar. Not as many runs then." She nodded.

"Thanks for the food," she said quietly. He smiled slightly. Her eyes followed a pointing finger to a vent grate above the small table.

"That'll take you back to the hallway past the canteen," he instructed. She nodded, holding out the empty container with the fork in it, watching him take it. His eyes followed her as she climbed onto the table. "I'll close it behind you," he said, getting no response as she hoisted herself and crawled into the vent. She lay there for a while, watching him through the grill. He paced for a while, finally sitting on his bed. When she was convinced he wouldn't squeal, she made her way back to the canteen hallway.

            Riddick's eyes opened slowly as he heard her walk down the hallway. She paused in the doorway, a halfway worried expression furling her eyebrows. They stared at each other for a while, before she finally entered and sat on the edge of her bed, hands in her lap.

            "You okay?" he asked quietly, sitting up. She nodded. "He do anything to you?" Her eyes met his, and she held his gaze as she shook her head. His eyebrow rose, but she held his gaze.

            "We need to talk," she said quietly. He nodded, watching her stand and walk toward him, crawling onto the bed with him. She crawled under the covers next to him, both lying on their sides facing each other. "Hell, I don't even know where to start," she whispered. His eyebrow rose, and she finally sighed, letting her eyes close. "Twosy didn't get the codes off a sleeper," she started. "The guard that let us into the showers was helping him. There's a screwdriver under his bed behind a loose brick. He was gonna leave me, Riddick." Riddick didn't say anything, just kept listening. "His name is Chris Meyer."

            "That guy that killed a bunch of Company guys." She nodded.

            "I heard about it too. Saw a tattoo on his arm from Thaler Two and asked him about it." She rubbed her forehead. "He knew everything," she sighed. "He knows about the room, the plan, my memory, everything." Riddick's forehead crinkled. "I lied and told him I didn't know when we were going. He didn't push," she added. "There's a guy named Whitty in Demetria on Helion Two that's expecting me. Identity hacker." Riddick nodded. "Not expecting you though, so we'll have to convince him." The lights flickered, but neither noticed. "Said he'd slip us some concussions. Leave them in that room." Riddick's eyebrow rose.

            "I'm going to ask you a question, and I want a completely honest answer," Riddick prefaced. She nodded. "Do you trust him?" She paused.

            "Honestly, I don't know." He sighed. "The fact that he knew everything makes me want to, especially with the shower thing." She nodded watching the wheels turn. "But he's still a fucking guard." Riddick nodded.

            "An ex-con though."

            "But still a guard."

            "As long as he doesn't know when, we should be okay." She groaned, shifting under the covers further. "Are you really okay?" he asked slowly. She nodded. "Kody." The tone in his voice made her open her eyes. "You were coughing blood." Shrug.

            "That blow to the kidney hurt pretty bad."

            "I could tell."

            "I'll be fine," she insisted. He nodded slowly. "Bruised, but fine." He smiled, reaching up to run a thumb down the side of her face. "Where are we going to go?"

            "I don't know," he responded.

            "Do you want to mess with Whitty on Helion Two or find our own guy?"

            "I know some people." She nodded, closing her eyes at his continuing touch. "We can wait and see."

            "How are we going to pay for it?" she asked, moving her head to rest on his arm, scooting closer to him for warmth.

            "I have some hidden accounts," he said. Her eyes opened. "Coded. Secure." She nodded.

            "You don't have to take me with you forever," she said slowly, focusing on his chest. His thumb paused in its movement, but resumed again after the moment passed.

            "I know." Her eyes flitted up to his quickly, his thumb sliding down to bring her lips to his lightly. She inhaled sharply, pressing against him. His arm slid around her side and up her back, pulling her full against him. He smiled against her as she wound her fingers in his shirt, arching into him. His knee pressed between hers, and she gasped quietly as his thigh made contact. She bit her lower lip as he pulled away, his lips trailing down the side of her face and down her neck, concentrating now on her collarbone. Fingers dug into his shoulders through his shirt as his hand slid down her back and over the swell to rest behind her thigh. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, voice barely audible as he glanced up at her. Hungry eyes met his, and a low growl escaped him as she conquered his lips, her hands cupping the back of his head to hold him there as she ground against him.

            "Are you?" she asked, suddenly pulling away. He blinked, searching her eyes and finding nothing but sincerity. His hand tightened on her thigh, pressing against her, and she shook her head.

            "Don't think with that," she whispered, kissing his forehead as she ran her fingers over his stubbly scalp. He stifled a laugh. "I'm serious, Riddick," she pressed. "I don't want you to do this if you're not ready to let her go." His eyes closed, a pained expression passing over his face.

            "I can't let her go," he whispered. She nodded, dropping her gaze. "But I don't want to let you go either."

            "I'm not asking you to choose," she said slowly. "But I don't want you to do something in the heat of the moment that you'll hate me for later." He sighed, running his hands through her hair.

            "I won't hate you."

            "You know what I mean."

            "Yeah," he said, "I know." His lips brushed against hers, and her eyes closed again, an audible hitch in her voice as he pressed against her insistently. They remained under the blankets as their clothes were discarded, Sarge leaving the wife beater on just in case. He pinned her arms above her head, attacking her neck as he slid into her slowly, feeling her arch against him with a quiet whimper. He paused, running his hands over her arms to cup her cheeks as he kissed her gently, feeling her arms settle around his shoulders. "Okay?" he asked quietly. Her eyes opened slowly, staring up at him. She lifted her head, her teeth catching his lip as she ground up against him, prompting a hiss. He moved slowly, gradually building them both up to the release that had been so long in breaking. His mouth covered hers, kissing her to stifle the loudening sounds she tried to catch in her throat. She stiffened, breath halting as her face scrunched, jaw falling slack as her eyes squeezed so tightly they quivered. Her head dropped back, hand covering her mouth as they both shuddered. From the moment it was decided he would share a cell with her, this moment was inevitable. They trembled against each other as the quaking continued, her arms shaking at the tight grip she had on his shoulders. With a final grunt, he stilled, and she reveled in the weight of him crushing her into the mattress. He rolled onto his back, holding her tightly against his chest. She sighed, bringing goose bumps to his dampened skin.

            "Christ," she whispered.

            "What?"

            "Oh, I needed that," she said with a small chuckle. He moaned, planting a light kiss on her forehead. "My faith in the male species is restored." A smile broke on his face.

            "Thanks." She smiled, burying her face in her neck. She sat up and glanced over her shoulder at the entrance to the cell before standing and collecting her pants. He watched her dress, catching his clothes out of the air as she threw them at him before crawling back under the covers. He curled up behind her, his arm draped lazily over her side.

            "I take it I get the wet spot then," she chuckled. He kissed the back of her neck with a lazy grin.

            "Naturally."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

            "Doc." The greasy man turned slowly, eyebrows perched on his forehead quizzically. Sarge leaned against the doorframe, that precious bag slung over her shoulder.

            "Let me check you out first," he said with a short nod toward his table. She pulled herself from the wall and hoisted herself to sit on the edge of the table, eyeing the penlight in his hand warily. "It's got a filter on it," he offered after following her gaze. Her eyebrow rose, but she didn't say anything. She squinted slightly, but it didn't hurt at all. _And Riddick made it sound like light would hurt_, she thought with a mental snicker. A few moments later, Doc sighed, clicking the light off. "Seeing okay?"

            "Better than ever," she said with an evil smirk. It was contagious, his lips slowly curling upwards as well.

            "Keep the cigarettes," he said, returning the collection of 25 once she'd handed everything over. Her eyebrow arched, but her hand closed around them, eyes lingering on the precious currency.

            "Actually, I need something else," she said quietly, glancing out into the hallway before turning silver eyes on him. His eyes narrowed, and she reached out, pulling an open palm toward her and depositing the cigarettes. "Back room," she added. He nodded, and she slid off the table to follow him down a hallway. He turned, lowering himself onto his cot. She watched his fingers arrange the cigarettes and select one finally, sticking it between dry, cracked lips. Her hand withdrew a matchbook from her pocket.

            "Let me do that," he said quickly, reaching out. She struck a match, dropping it with a hiss as her hands covered her eyes. The dampness on the ground extinguished it, a slow trail of smoke coordinating with the smell of sulfur. "I warned you," he said with a shrug, taking the matchbook from her hand. "Keep them closed." She sighed, hearing another match strike and sizzle. "Okay." Her eyes opened again, focusing on him. "Your something else," he pressed, the words accentuated with smoke pouring from his mouth.

            "Information," she said, her fingers returning to a pocket. "Orbis 12 had a neuro program on their tags," she said slowly, fingers still searching.

            "I heard," he said slowly.

            "And here?"

            "I don't know. Why?" His eyes searched hers, but there was no information hidden in the silver orbs. She shrugged.

            "Peace of mind." He shook his head slightly, eyebrow raised. She knew he didn't believe her.

            "Sarge…" he started, but she shook her head.

            "No, I'm not, Doc," she insisted. "They're legally required to tell us shit like that when we're tagged. That's how Orbis 12 residents know. They have to." She bit back a grin, only a smirk sliding past. "I figure we can get moved if that legal requisite wasn't met. Figure I could raise a stink so bad they want me out before I start a riot." Doc sighed.

            "I've never seen one," he said, scratching his arm where his tag was imbedded. She held out a hand, and he looked at it as though it were an alien.

            "You're the only one with a magnifier."

            "What makes you so sure I'd be able to see it, assuming it were there, even with a magnifier?" he asked flatly, reaching out to take the chip from her fingers.

            "See," she said, leaning against the wall, "I know a thing or two about medicine. A college graduate is a rare thing in a prison, granted, but it does happen."

            "I didn't know that," Doc said. She smiled.

            "For a reason, be sure of it," she quipped. He returned the smile. "The smallest lethal dose of even the strongest neuro toxin is one cc." Doc's eyes met hers again. "That's visible with a magnifier." Doc nodded, turning the tiny chip over in his hand a few times. "Let me know?"

            "Sure."

            "Tonight?"

            "What's the rush?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow again. She shrugged. He took a breath, glancing back down at the chip.

            "I'll be back," she said, leaving the room. Doc turned, taking his magnifying glass into his hand and inspecting the chip.

            "Shit," he muttered. "I'm gonna have to take the damn thing apart."

            "What's the word?" She glanced up from her book, eyes holding Riddick's for a moment before returning.

            "I don't know yet," she offered quietly. "Haven't gone back." He nodded, entering the cell. "And yourself?"

            "You have an ex-con to thank." She smiled. "And our good friend Twosy had quite the collection." Her eyebrow rose, eyes finishing a sentence before glancing to his.

            "Meaning…"

            "Anestephine, Morphine, Ephedrine, more clothes, couple of shivs…" he paused to lick his lips, her other eyebrow joining the one already quirked. "And a credit chip."

            "Fuck." Riddick nodded, tossing it across the room to land at her feet. She picked it up gingerly, as though the touch alone would break it.

            "And," he added, "A list of codes." Her brows furled.

            "He had the codes in the room," Sarge said quickly. Riddick only shook his head, watching her face fall. "He _was_ going to leave me," she said slowly, shaking her head in disbelief. "Mother fucker."

            "Yup." He shrugged. "But you don't have to worry about that now," he said. "So let's go talk to the good doctor." She sighed with a slight nod, folding the corner of a page down before closing her book and standing. "How many times have you read that?" he asked. She glanced back at it and then up to him.

            "I learn something new every time," she said with a smile. "That's seven new somethings, at least." Riddick shook his head with a snicker. "Dude, Wittgenstein was a fucking genius for his time," she insisted, following him down the hallway. He didn't say anything as they walked, wondering why the hell anyone would care about the book she was explaining to him. None of it mattered. They both halted upon entering Doc's cell.

            "Christ," Riddick whispered. Blood covered the room. "That's arterial spray," he said quietly, pointing to a definite line of blood at an angle, halfway across the wall and halfway across the ceiling. She nodded, jaw clenching. He stood, staring, as she flounced to the back room. He heard her swear, and then followed. "If he's not dead, I don't know what dead is." She growled, throwing a chair across the room. "Where's the tag?"

            "I don't fucking know," she said, dropping her head as her hands went to her hips. He reached out, clasping a hand loosely around the back of her neck and squeezing gently. "Now what?"

            "Now what what?" Riddick asked. She turned slowly, staring up at him.

            "We don't know if there's anything in these god damn chips, Riddick. I'm not fucking chancing it." His eyebrow rose, head cocking to the side. The anger melted off her face. "Now, why didn't I think of that?" she said slowly, reading his mind.

            He was leaned up against the wall, the darkness of lockdown concealing their motions from the rest of the population. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, one of his legs resting in the space between her ankles and her butt. Breath blasted against his skin, her forehead pressed into his chest as her fingers dug into his other thigh.

            "Almost done," he whispered. She nodded, a small whimper escaping. _Man, they plant these things deep, _he thought, cringing as he manipulated a thin shiv through the skin on her forearm. She shook against him as he dug deeper, finally hearing metal on metal. "Higher than I thought," he commented, prompting another whimper. This should have been easy. She drew in a sharp breath, holding it as the chip was pried out of her skin, sent flying across the room with a quiet ping. A small chuckle shook her shoulders at the sound, and she sat up, eyebrows still trembling.

            "We have to go today. They'll wonder if we're both torn up where the tags are placed." she said quietly, rubbing her nose as he wrapped torn fabric around the new wound. He nodded slowly. "Did more damage than I thought you would," she said, arching her eyebrows. "I thought you were supposed to be good with a shiv." His eyes met hers, and she only smiled at the scowl he gave her. "Am I getting yours?" He shook his head. "You sure?"

            "I can get it," he maintained. She shrugged, watching him tie the fabric off. "I don't want you getting revenge on me for my small miscalculation." She snickered.

            "Anything but small, darlin'," she snorted. "That's a good three inch miscalculation there." He shrugged. "I wouldn't get even like that anyway," she said with a shrug, flexing the fingers that had just been clenching his leg, satisfied with the small cracks and pops they emitted.

            "Oh?" She nodded. "And how would you get even?"

            "I don't know," she dodged. "When you least expected it." He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. She ran a hand over his head, letting it come to rest on the side of his neck, her thumb moving back and forth across his cheek. "We're really going to do this?" she asked quietly. He nodded, wiping the shiv on his pants. She cringed as it tore into his flesh, hearing his breathing quicken. His extraction went much more smoothly than hers did. "Nice," she commented, eyes narrowing.

            "I watched them put it in," he said, gritting his teeth as he pried the tag out patiently. "Remembered where it was." She nodded slowly, reaching for the pre-torn fabric laid out for his wound.

            "Here," she said quietly, taking the shiv from his hand. He glanced up at her, then watched her reach for his wrist. With a rag, she mopped up the blood running down his forearm and dripping off his elbow, then gingerly wrapped the incision tightly enough to stop the bleeding but not enough to stop the circulation. He sighed, running his free hand through her hair, which was falling out of the loop she'd placed it in earler, the wavy strands falling in her eyes. His fingers closed around the black elastic holding it back loosely, and pulled, watching it fall around her shoulders. He'd never seen it down before, and was surprised at how long it was, reaching to the middle of her back in slow, lazy waves. Her eyes closed as he toyed with it, and she leaned forward to curl up against him. "I'm scared, Riddick," she whispered.

            "Of what?" he asked, pulling back slightly to look at her.

            "Being out." His eyebrow rose. "They say the real cause of recidivism is fear of freedom," she continued. "Convicts get used to being in the system and freak out when they're released. So they commit another horrendous crime just to go back home."

            "I've been in the system longer than you," Riddick said, equally as quietly. "I don't have any problems leaving."

            "I've been in for eight years straight, minus transport time between here and Butcher Bay," she insisted. "You hopped all over the place with more free time between slams." He cocked his head, granting the point. She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know if I can do this."

            "Sure you can." She sighed. "We can trade in the transport we get here, find a cozy little sleaze planet and find us some unrespectable jobs." She snickered. "Or," he said slowly, "we can find us a lonely planet somewhere no one will find us, where no one would ever think to look for us."

            "And live happily ever after my ass," she interjected flatly. He chuckled. "I'll take option number one." She sighed, pulling away from him. "You do know I don't plan to stay with you forever, right?" she asked slowly. He licked his lips, eyeing her.

            "I figured that, yeah," he finally said. She blinked a couple of times, trying to convince herself he didn't _really_ sound dejected. "How long were you planning on staying?" She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

            "I don't know," she admitted with a shrug. "Until you get over me."

            "What makes you think I'm attached?" She shot him a look, but his face said he was totally serious, and her expression wavered.

            "I can smell it on you," she said with a smirk, sniffing to make her point. He grinned, shaking his head.

            "You're so full of shit," he groaned.

            "So are you." Her eyes met his, and she stared at him for a while. "It's too good to last, Riddick," she said slowly, the weightiness returning. "You know that as well as I do."  

            "I'd like to thing more than one good thing can happen in someone's life," he said quietly. She stared at him for a moment before dropping her eyes to focus on the wrapping around her arm. He reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, watching her eyes close.

            "When are we going?" she asked quietly.

            "A little before lockdown," he answered. ""You sure you can get us there?" She nodded. "We can wait in the vents until the timing's right." She drew in a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh. "Silent kills, and only where necessary." Her eyes met his. "The fewer missing people, the less suspicion, the less likely they are to know we're gone." She nodded again. "We have to be on the transport before morning though. Cons will know something's up tomorrow." She nodded. "We can go when everyone's turning in for their afternoon naps after showers."

            "What do we say about the cuts?" He shrugged, and she sighed. "Common enough no one should ask," she guessed. "Everyone gets banged up around here." He smiled, but it was fleeting.

            "No goodbyes," he instructed.

            "There's no one to say goodbye to," she said quietly, meeting his eyes with a convincing stare.  


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

            They sat in the dim room, neither saying a word, as the time passed by. Balls walked by a couple of times, but never said anything, only quirked an eyebrow. Finally, a loud buzz sounded, and Sarge glanced up sharply, as though she could see the source of the sound.

            "Showers," she said quietly. The time was nearing, the nervousness growing in the pit of her stomach. Riddick only stood slowly, stretching his arms overhead with a low, satisfied growl. "I got the soap," she added, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

            "Anything important in there?" he asked. She shook her head, following the coding in the question.

            "Just soap." He nodded, and she followed him out the door and down the hallway, which was getting more and more crowded as convicts lined up to get through the doors to the shower.

            "What happened to your arm?" Sarge glanced over her shoulder before yanking her shirt over her head. Red's eyes widened at the glow her eyes granted him, and he choked down a gulp.

            "IV," she explained quietly. "I fought, and it ripped before I went out." Redd nodded quickly, still shocked.

            "You okay?" She shrugged a shoulder, letting her pants fall from her hips into a pile with her already discarded shirt, followed by her tattered underwear. Riddick's scowl mirrored Sarge's as Red's eyes raked over her body. She looked past Red's shoulder upon hearing the low, barely audible growl vibrating in his throat and shook her head slightly, hiding it from Red by stepping under the nearest spray of dingy water. Her skin crawled as Red's wet shoulder brushed hers as he stepped under the stream next to hers, and she fought a shudder. "You got any soap, Sarge?" Red's voice was muffled by the water pelting her head, and she turned to him, the glare returning at the hungry eyes he turned on her. She sighed, reaching with dripping fingers into the bag she'd hung on a nail in the wall next to her.

            "Don't fucking touch me," she snapped, eyeing the hand on her shoulder before turning and handing him to soap.

            "What got into you?" Red asked, eyebrow raised as he lathered up. She smirked, but didn't say anything. His face fell. "Right," he said, voice dismal. "I see." She shrugged, glancing over at her shoulder just in time to see Riddick's shoulder shake with silent, hidden laughter. "I wasn't good enough for you."

            "No, Red," she said with a shrug. "You're just not my type." Riddick watched the exchange from the corner of his eye, reaching out to take the bar of soap from her as she held it out without looking at him. "Don't take it personal," she added, tilting her head back to rinse the suds out of her hair. Red's eyes darted beyond her to glance at Riddick quickly, but left him when the silver stare was turned on him.

            "It is personal," he mumbled.

            "What was that?" Riddick snapped, stepping out of the water and pulling damp pants over wet skin.

            "I said it is personal," Red returned, a little too loudly. A couple of convicts nearby turned to watch, just in case something happened.

            "Cut the shit, Red," Sarge snapped, yanking her wife beater over her head. "You always knew the deal."

            "Yeah," he snapped, ripping his shirt back on angrily. "And so did he." Sarge shook her head with a sigh.

            "You got a problem with me?" Riddick asked, standing to his full height, shirt still on a hook somewhere. Sarge snatched it up, draping it over her shoulder. Red just scowled at him. "You really want a fight in here? Guards watching? Fellow convicts watching?" Red glanced over his shoulder quickly.

            "Be smart, Red," Sarge said quietly. "It's not worth it."

            "He's not worth it, you're right," Red scoffed. Her eyes narrowed, focusing her polished glare on him.

            "Shut the fuck up, Red." Red started to turn toward the voice, and then thought better of it. Riddick's eyebrows rose at Balls, who was now standing behind Red, hands on his hips and still stark naked. "Why you thought you ever had a chance with her is beyond me, but don't be stupid. You can't win this." Red's hands clenched at his sides. "You got a whole army behind you willing to kick your ass to keep her from getting a fucking scratch," Balls continued. Wet feet slapped closer to Red, confirming the validity of the threat. "Where the fuck are you on the totem pole, huh Red?" Red only glared, his gaze shifting between Riddick, who only glared back, and Sarge, who looked slightly surprised at the showing of support. "She's at the top," Balls said quietly. "So's Riddick."

            "Riddick's been here for a month and a fucking half," Red snapped quickly.

            "Breaking out of Ursa Luna, Orbis 12, _and_ Butcher Bay says something, Red," Balls said with a sardonic chuckle. "You know that as well as the rest of us."

            "Cut it out Balls," Sarge said suddenly, shaking her head as she collected her bag from its hook on the wall. "You made your point. Let it go."

            "Long as he does," Balls said quietly. "You gonna let it go, Red?" He didn't answer, and Balls snorted. "You really did think you deserved her, didn't you?" He clicked his tongue scoldingly. "Shoulda known better."

            "Let it go, Balls," Sarge repeated, more firmly this time.

            "Why should I?"

            "That's enough," a voice cut in. The crowd glanced at the door. "Shower's over," the guard said, cocking his gun. "Everybody out."

            "Told you," Sarge said quietly as Red turned. She made sure it was loud enough to hear. He paused, watching over his shoulder as Riddick lifted his shirt off Sarge's shoulder, watched as their eyes met and held, watched as they both smiled as though they shared the best secret in the world. His nostrils flared, and with a sudden, animalistic growl, turned and charged toward Riddick, slipping as he tried to stop to avoid the barrel of the gun suddenly shoved against his forehead.

            "I said, that's enough," the guard said, finger twitching in the trigger. "Give me one good reason to let a shot off, convict." Red's hands rose slowly as he backed away, his glare lingering on Riddick for a moment as he turned to gather the rest of his clothing. He felt Sarge's eyes on him as she followed Riddick into the hallway, but didn't turn.

            Sarge and Riddick lay on their cots, both staring up at the ceiling, hands under their heads as they listened to the post-shower noise that always took a while to calm as convicts turned in for their afternoon naps. People who'd never been to a slam would be amazed at the routines that always seemed to emerge.

            "You okay?" They both looked over at the door, Sarge's glance lingering longer than Riddick's, before returning to their ceiling staring.

            "Why wouldn't I be?" she finally asked, turning her eyes back to Balls as he strode through their open cell door. "Nothing happened."

            "Nothing happened?" Balls retorted incredulously. "He almost beat the shit out of both of you." Riddick snickered.

            "He knows better," Sarge said quietly.

            "You played with him and let him find out," Balls scolded.

            "I didn't fucking play with him," she snapped, launching off her back to sit on the edge of her bed, eyes suddenly angry. "He knew from the moment I walked down those fucking stairs I didn't want him, and he pushed it." Balls' brows furled. "I told him flat out I wanted no part of him, friendship, alliance, or otherwise, and he just kept on. I may have been cordial, but I've _never_ made it seem like I liked him even the least little bit." She paused, getting her temper in check.

            "You told everyone you were asexual, Sarge," Balls said quietly, glancing quickly at Riddick.

            "I am," she snapped, leaning against the wall. Balls' eyebrow rose, and he glanced at Riddick again.

            "So you two aren't fucking then." Part question, part statement.

            "Does it matter?"

            "Yeah, actually," Balls said, leaning against the bars behind him, "it does. If you are, you lied. If you're not, you played Red."

            "So I played Red. Big fucking deal," she said with a shrug. Riddick watched Balls' face for any recognition of the lie. Either he didn't know she was lying or he had a damn good poker face.

            "He could have killed you, Sarge," Balls insisted gently. She glared up at him, but he didn't change his mind. "He's got a good forty pounds on you, at least."

            "So?" Sarge's eyes closed. "Didn't matter with Duke. And Duke could beat the shit out of Red with an arm and a leg removed." Riddick fought the chuckle. He wanted to stay out of this.

            "Duke was good at blowing smoke, Sarge," Balls groaned. "You and I both know it. An enraged Red could easily take you out." He paused. "And you definitely pissed him off."

            "It worked, then," Sarge snapped. "Didn't touch me again."

            "Might not work next time." She couldn't keep the smirk off her face. There wouldn't be a next time.

            "We'll see." Her eyes opened. "Might not be a next time if he knows what's good for him."  
            "I won't back you up next time," Balls warned. Her eyebrow rose. "I'm not taking the chance he'll rip my nuts off and hand them to me just because I got in the way of him getting his woman."

            "I'll never be his woman," Sarge ground out, rising slowly. "I'll never be _anyone's_ woman." Balls started rethinking his statement as she stalked forward, moving toward him slowly, ready to strike. "I'm not a fucking possession, and anyone with half a brain would feel sorry for the poor fool who tried to make me into one." She paused a few inches away from him. "And you know it." Her head cocked to the side, her eyes never leaving his for even a moment. "So quit playing the 'how loyal are you really' game with me, because you know where my loyalty lies." He didn't respond, so she continued. "I'm loyal to no one but the person who counts. Me. So don't you fucking cross me, and you'll be fine." He nodded slowly. "I like you, Balls, I really do. But you know what happens when someone crosses me." Another short nod. "Good." She backed away, returning to her crosslegged position against the wall. "Get the fuck out."

            "You know," Balls said, dragging himself away from the bars that had just been molded into his back a second ago. "It's amazing how much power women have over men," he commented, more to Riddick than Sarge.

            "I wouldn't know," Riddick returned quietly. "She doesn't have to worry about threatening me."

            "This one here," Balls continued, gesturing toward Sarge, "has every fucking con down here, regardless of size or rap sheet, shaking in his boots just because of that menace in her eyes." He glanced at her, tossing a slight smirk. "And that was before the shine." He shook his head. "No wonder Daisy wants you dead."

            "What was that?" she asked quickly.

            "Yep. Watch your back," Balls said with a slight shrug, watching Riddick sit up slowly. 

            "Explain," Sarge demanded. Balls only shrugged and started moving for the door, suddenly pressed against the wall, his cheek smashed against the cold, damp stone. "You better start talking," she warned. He felt the point of a shiv digging into his side, nearly drawing blood.

            "He loses money on you," Balls said quietly. "People are starting to shy away from the fights because there's no glory in it. Winning doesn't move them up the hierarchy any more. There's only so far they can advance, even though you're never in the fights. He's losing talent. Cons are starting to learn it's easier and less painful to just stay in your good graces rather than fight their way up to just below you." She swore.

            "When?"

            "Soon."

            "How soon?" she pressed, simultaneously pressing him harder into the wall.

            "I don't know," Balls stammered. "I overheard a couple of his goons talking about a hit on you a couple days ago. It sounded like it would be soon, but I didn't hear a timeframe." Sarge let him loose and backed up slightly, running her hands through her still damp hair. She glanced out toward the hallway, which was eerily quiet.

            "Go back to your cell and stay there," she instructed quietly. He turned to her slowly, eyebrow raised.

            "What are you gonna do?" She just shook her head.

            "Stay there," she repeated, eyeing him. He nodded, then repeated his question. "I don't know yet. Just stay out of it." She nodded toward the door. "You don't know anything, you're not a threat." He disappeared down the hallway, and she remained standing, her back to Riddick. She heard his bed creak quietly as he stood, shuddering as his hand closed on her shoulder.

            "You've got a decision to make," he said quietly. His voice was closer to her than she expected. "Either you go looking for Daisy and set things straight, or we go now and avoid the hassle." She sighed, shaking her head slightly.

            "If he comes looking for me and I'm nowhere to be found, they'll know." Riddick nodded behind her, the hand on her shoulder sliding around to the other shoulder, pulling her back against his chest. "Sound the alarm, and the sneaky getaway won't be so easy."

            "I got your back, you know that, right?" he asked slowly.

            "Don't," she whispered. "You've still got a chance without me."

            "You've got the map," he responded, kissing her temple to draw a smile.

            "We'll have to extend the timeline," she said quietly. "Let the guards find them, spend some time in the hole, wait a few days after that." He was quiet for a moment, pondering that. "The guards will know it was me," she explained. "I'm sure they've overheard the complaints about me fucking up the fighting business for him. I'd be the prime suspect."

            "What if he gets some time in the hole while we make our move?"

            "How?" she asked, turning to face him. His arm fell comfortably around her waist. The smirk on his face should have told her, but it didn't. He leaned forward, his lips closing around her earlobe, his smile widening as she pressed harder against him.

            "You know someone with some clout." She tried to look at him, but his lips were already working a trail down the side of her neck. "Talk to him." She sighed, burying her face in his shoulder.

            "I don't have a good feeling about that, Riddick," she said quietly. Her back arched as his fingers traced her spine.

            "Use your talents," he whispered, closing his teeth on her skin. She pulled away, making the bite hurt worse than it would have. Her body language said angry, but her eyes gave her fear and confusion away.

            "He'll know when we're going," she stammered, eyes darting around the room nervously. Riddick's eyebrow rose almost sensuously.

            "He won't care." Her eyes closed as she rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand.

            "I can't," she whispered, shaking her head slightly. He sighed, closing the distance she'd created between them. She flinched as he brushed her hair out of her eyes, bringing her cheek closer to his already advancing lips.

            "Yes you can," he said quietly after kissing her cheek. "If you want out badly enough, you can." She shook her head again, biting her lip to keep it from trembling visibly. "Listen to me Sarge," he said, eyeing the convict walking past the cell, who was now slowing to watch Riddick's arms wrap around Sarge possessively. "You and I both know if you stay here, you'll snap." His voice was directed into her ear, quiet enough to not be overheard, but visible enough to look like he was whispering sweet nothings to the sudden collection of passersby. Her hands clutched his shoulders tightly, but she didn't know she was helping the image. "If you want a chance at freedom, you can do this." He smiled lightly at the jealous stares from the men strolling by to watch as he pressed his lips to her shoulder before returning to his words. "If you want a chance at the time you saw yourself spending with me on the outside," he paused, watching her head turn to him slightly. "You _will_ do this." Her head left his shoulder, her eyes shifting to the strolling crowd, which now seemed to be circling the block to keep watching, before turning on him. Her eyebrow twitched downward a bit, but she leaned forward, brushing her lips against his only slightly, nodding her answer while appearing to only kiss him. He caught the signal and deepened the contact, but only for a short second before he pulled her into a fierce hug. "Just don't let him think you don't want to be there." She nodded against his chest, her fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "Go," he said, quickly kissing the top of her head before ending the embrace. She sighed, turning to the door. He followed her down the hallway, watching the corridors as she entered the grate.

            Her stomach was in knots as she crawled through the metal tunnels, heart rate increasing with every inch she moved forward. She reached the end, only a grate separating her from her goal, and she paused, watching the empty room, pondering whether she should surprise him or wait until he got there and avoid a possible visitor. She decided on the latter, the vent getting hotter and more uncomfortable, her heart rate continuing its ascent and her stomach twisting harder as time passed. Finally, the door opened, and he walked in. Alone. She waited until she heard the shower turn on before removing the grate and dropping soundlessly to the table below it. She arranged herself at the table, helping herself to one of his cigarettes, and waited. She heard the door open and exhaled a slow, streaming swirl of smoke before raising her eyes to his.

            "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, adjusting the towel around his waist. She made a show of looking him over, eyebrow cocked in approval. _I can not believe I'm going through with this_, she thought. She didn't answer yet, only taking another long drag off the cigarette between her fingers. He watched, thumb hooked behind the tucked in tail of the white towel.

            "I need a favor," she said finally, eyes meeting his again. It was his turn to arch an eyebrow, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. She offered no more information, instead, focusing her attention on smoking.

            "A favor," he repeated, his voice somewhat skeptical. She blew smoke rings, still waiting for his answer. "Let me hear it."

            "You know that's not how it works," she scolded, still showing off her smoking tricks, knowing he was watching intently. "Tell me yes and you'll hear it."

            "Why the fuck should I agree to something on the blind?" She smiled.

            "You're smart," she said, cocking her head to the side as she flipped her ashes. "But you know it doesn't work that way." Her eyes met his. "Not here, anyway." He sighed, running a hand through his wet hair.

            "Then tell me what I get out of the deal." She smirked, eyes twinkling slightly.

            "Favor, not deal." He shook his head, still staring into shined eyes.

            "What do I get out of it?" he repeated. She stood, pausing to snuff out the cigarette before walking to him. She leaned against the wall, only a few inches away from him, her head bending to the side to watch her finger trail down his chest.

            "I'm sure we could come to an agreement," she said, turning her eyes back up to him, only the slightest hint of a smile turning the corners of her lips upwards. She knew she had him then, even if he didn't show it. He sighed heavily, leaning his head against the doorframe as he pondered.

            "Does Riddick know you're here?" he asked quietly.

            "What do you think?" she asked coyly, consciously shifting her eyes down to his lips and back up.

            "You know what you're doing?" he pressed. She nodded, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as she tangled her hands in his hair. His eyes scanned over her quickly.

            "I'm clean," she said quietly. "Figured you'd be more trusting if I wasn't armed." He smirked.

            "I still don't trust you." She watched his tongue trace his lower lip, mirroring the movement.

            "Smart man," she purred. "How 'bout it, officer?"

            "Let me hear it."

            "Is that a yes?" she asked, her eyes meeting his. He leaned forward, allowing himself a short taste of her before meeting her eyes again.

            "Yeah," he said quietly. "That's a yes." She nodded, the smirk falling from her face as she turned to occupy her chair again.

            "Daisy has a hit out on me," she offered, watching him sit on the edge of the bed across from her. She crossed her ankles on a nearby chair and folded her hands in her lap. His face was serious, and she continued. "Couldn't kill him without delaying plans for a trip to the hole." He cocked his head to the side, granting her guess. "Couldn't let him live in case he came looking for me and I was gone, or he'd blow the whistle." Another point well taken.

            "So what do I do about it? Kill him for you?" There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice, and her expression told him he was testing her patience.

            "I said a hit, not a threat. Daisy himself isn't the fucking problem." His eyebrow rose. "You lock him and his posse in the hole and I'll let you have your way with me." She cringed inwardly. It was supposed to sound like she was willing, not compliant.

            "You'll let me, huh?" Her eyebrow rose.

            "You know the terms you've already agreed to, and I know what I want to give you in return," she said firmly.

            "You're whoring yourself out for a window of opportunity, Sarge," he said slowly, watching her eyebrow arch. "You're better than this."

            "Would you do it if I didn't offer?" she fired back.

            "You're awful trusting, telling me all this."

            "Answer the fucking question," she pressed, eyes narrowing.

            "No,"

            "Exactly. You want something out of the deal, you got something out of the deal. And since you're already obligated to follow through, I'm obligated to pay up." She paused, watching him mull it over. "You showed trust in me by leaving me armed last time I was here, even giving me a fucking fork." He smirked. "I'm willing to return that trust to you for a chance at freedom." The smirk fell quickly as he searched her eyes for honesty, finding nothing else. He took a breath and paused.

"I've always liked you, Sarge," he said quietly as he stood, reaching out to remove the elastic from her hair and run his fingers through it. "And you're better than this." Her eyes met his.

"Gotta do what you gotta do," she said, leaning her head against his hand as he cupped her cheek. "I don't have any other way to pay you."

"Take me with you."

"I can't," she said, removing her face from his hand. "It's risky enough with just two people." His breath caught in his throat, and she glanced up at him. "I can't do this without Riddick, and I know you can't pilot."

"You're right," he said slowly, picking up her feet so he could sit. She figured he would let them drop to the floor, but he placed them in his lap, fiddling with the laces of her boots. "I can't." His eyes met hers, somewhat sadly. "So this is how it's gonna be, then." She sighed. "You know," he said, pausing slightly. "I've always tried to protect you as much as I could without drawing too much attention." Her jaw tightened. "I know it didn't help much, but I just wanted you to know I tried."

"Why?"

"No one deserves to be treated like you all are down there," he said slowly. "But there's no justification for what Anders does to you." Her eyes closed.

"I'm a fucking convict, Chris," she said quietly.

"I don't care," he insisted. "You're still a human."

"Slightly," she mused with a halfhearted chuckle.

"You wanted to know why I was helping Twosy?" Her eyes met his. "He told me he was getting you out of here."

"He lied," she said quickly. "He had the codes hidden with the screwdriver, and phony ones where he said he put them." His forehead crinkled.

"I made the mistake of trusting him," he admitted.

"Both of us did," she admitted.

"I'll take care of Daisy," he said quietly. "That'll give you four days to decide when you want to go. Don't tell me," he instructed. "I don't want to know. Just make it out of here alive." She nodded slightly. Her stomach had started to unwind the more he talked, but as soon as he pulled on the string of her boot, undoing the bow, it knotted up even more than it had before. She took a silent, deep breath and let it out slowly as he pulled the boot off. The other followed, and there was no turning back now.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

            Riddick felt the anger rising, the veins in his neck pulsating visibly. The vent got warmer the more he watched, but he didn't move, fighting to keep himself there instead of blowing the whole thing. He didn't, after all, know about this as far as the situation was concerned, and he'd risk both of them if he suddenly changed his mind. So he watched. The bit about this guy trying to protect her surprised him. He figured Twosy had known the guy at some point and he was the reason this Chris dude was helping with the escape. Granted, he was an ex-con and knew the system, but still.

            "Just make it out of here alive." Riddick's eyebrow rose. It really did sound like Chris had a soft spot for Sarge. He was beginning to wonder what Sarge would have said if it turned out the guy could pilot. That thought was quickly abandoned, though, as the boots came off, dropped to the floor with a quiet thump. He didn't blink through the undressing, the infuriation rising closer and closer to the surface. When the moment of truth came, he buried his face in the crook of his arm. He couldn't close out the sounds, though, and the anger continued to rise as he listened to someone else make her make the sounds he'd drawn from her. Curiosity got the better of him, and he had to steal a glance, instantly kicking himself for giving in._ She's actually enjoying it_, he thought with a dark scowl. _There's a difference between looking like you're enjoying it and actually enjoying it._ He stole another glance, stifling a growl. _And that's actually enjoying it._ He couldn't take it any more. Silently, he backed away from the grate and crawled back through the vent system.

            She didn't really want to, but she lay there with him for a while, the sheet pulled up over both of them as he cradled her against his side. Her eyes closed as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"You didn't have to do this."

            "I know," she said, lifting her head from his shoulder. He looked slightly apologetic, but she didn't press. Instead, she touched her lips lightly to his and she stood, knowing he would watch her dress.

            "You're welcome to the shower, if you want one," he offered. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

            "I think I'll take you up on that," she said with a small, but genuine smile. She disappeared into the bathroom, the door left open, and he rested his forearm over his eyes. She didn't waste time, only rinsing off quickly, before helping herself to a towel and dressing. "Thanks for the favor," she said quietly, bending down to put her boots on. He stood, pausing to pull his pants back on before walking to her side. He tucked her hair behind her ear, and she kissed him lightly.

            "I'd like to see you again," he said quietly, tentatively. She looked down at her feet for a moment, then back up at him.

            "Lose the job, track me down, and then we'll talk," she said before thinking.      "That a promise?" he asked quietly.

            "I said we'd talk," she said with a shrug. "No promises." He nodded with a small smile, but it fell quickly.

            "Good luck." Her eyebrow rose, and he gave her a short kiss. "Go on," he said, nodding at the vent. "I'll take care of Daisy. They'll have to take him by your cell so you'll know." She nodded, stepping onto the table. Once in the grate, she waited in the grate again until she was sure he wouldn't squeal. She didn't think he would, but she wasn't taking any chances. He fell asleep, and she made her way back home, somehow relieved when she saw the grate leading to the canteen hallway. She listened, stole a few glances, and decided the coast was clear before pushing the grate out and crawling into the dark hallway. A sudden sickening feeling came over her and she paused in her stroll to heave into a corner, dropping to her knees as the tears sprang free. _Shit. Just what I need. I've got a good three hallways to go down before I get home, and I'm fucking crying. Fan-fucking-tastic._ She sniffed and wiped her cheeks, sticking to the shadows in the hallways.

            Riddick smelled her at the end of the hallway, the anger rising into his throat again. He remained reclined on the bed, hands folded behind his head and ankles crossed, keeping his eyes closed. She paused in the hallway for a moment before entering and locking up, taking her boots and socks off before crawling onto her bed. _Funny.__ I figured she'd try to cuddle up with me_, he thought, cracking an eye open. She was lying on her side, facing the wall, her face hidden in the pillow.

            "You okay?" She didn't answer. The cot groaned as he turned onto his side and sat up. "Did he hurt you?" She shook her head, but didn't say anything. "You looked like you were having fun," he said, his voice suddenly edgy. She sniffed, and the anger melted out of him. _Shit._ _Just push it, Dick. Keep on pushing it._ He sighed, watching her stiffen as he lay down behind her. He felt the silent sob she let out as he draped his arm over her, pulling her against him. She squeezed her eyes shut as his lips pressed to her shoulder.

            "Don't," she said quietly, hoping her voice didn't quiver. "Don't touch me." He pulled back slightly, but didn't withdraw his arm.

            "Are you okay?"

            "Of course I'm not fucking okay," she snapped. His forehead crinkled. "I feel dirty, okay? I feel like a fucking whore, but we got the window, so leave me the fuck alone."

            "Look at me."

            "Fuck you."

            "Look at me," he repeated, more firmly this time.

            "You know what I look like," she retorted. "You fucking watched. Why the hell do you want me to look at you, you sick fuck."

            "Just humor me, okay?" She sighed, shaking her head. He waited, rubbing his thumb back and forth over her arm. Finally, she turned over, staring up at him with hurt, angry eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. She shook her head, waving him off.

            "It had to be done," she said shakily, closing her eyes. "Why did you follow me?"

            "I wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you," he answered quietly. Her eyes opened, searching his as a tear slid silently over her cheek.

            "So why did you have to ask?"

            "I had to leave earlier than I planned," he said with a dismissive shrug.

            "Why?" _Fuck. She just had to ask, didn't she?_

            "So I wouldn't kill him." Her eyebrow rose, but he didn't offer any more.

            "Thanks."

            "For what?"

            "Not blowing it," she said quietly, her eyes falling from his. "That would have been bad." He smiled.

            "Yeah," he said, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. "It would have."

            "I'm tired."

            "Go to sleep."

            "I can't," she whispered. He pulled her closer, but she pressed her hand against him, trying to back away. "Don't." His eyes searched hers, but she quickly looked away, still pushing him away from her. "I want to sleep alone tonight." He nodded, giving her a final squeeze before standing to retreat to his own cot.

            He woke to an empty room after a restless night's sleep, surprised he didn't hear her leave. _Probably at the canteen,_ he thought, stifling a groan as he stood. Hooking his fingers into the straps of his goggles, he headed in that direction, popping his neck as he walked down the hallway. She was sitting in a corner, feet propped on the table, as she choked down the slop in her bowl. Evidently she was off in la-la land, as she didn't acknowledge his entrance into the brightened room.

            "This seat taken?" he asked with a smirk, watching her jump. She shook her head, smiling slightly.

            "Go for it."

            "Better?" She shrugged, returning to the crap in her bowl. He dug in as well, fighting a cringe as the shit slid down his throat.

            "So nice to see you, Sergeant," a voice called. They both glanced at the doorway, Sarge swearing under her breath. Daisy grinned at them, selecting his bowl.

            "Can't have a meal without a fucking interruption," she muttered, glaring from behind dark goggles.

            "Mind if I join you?" the convict asked, that suspicious grin still curling his lips.

            "Actually, I do," Riddick said. "You're really not my type." Sarge snickered.

            "Wasn't talkin' to you, now was I?" Daisy drawled.

            "Might want to clarify next time," Riddick remarked with a shrug. "Never know who's who down here, if you know what I mean." Sarge grinned.

            "It's okay, Riddick," she said quietly, biting back a smile at the look on Daisy's face as he finally found out her room mate's name. "He can sit here." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "I mean, I'm done, are you?" Riddick shrugged, dropping his spoon into his bowl.

            "Yeah, I've had about all I can stand of this shit." Daisy scowled, and Sarge patted his shoulder.

            "Don't take it personally, Daisy," she said lightly. "You just smell bad."

            "That a fact?" he growled, reaching out to snatch a handful of hair. She yelped, jerked backward over the back of the chair beside him, and he found a very sharp hunk of metal pressed against his throat.

            "I don't think you want to do that," Riddick stated.

            "She needs to learn her place," Daisy pushed, stifling a gasp as the shiv pressed deeper against his skin.

            "She knows her place," Riddick snarled. "You, on the other hand, still have some learning to do."

            "She's fucking with my business." He jerked on her hair again, succeeding in making contact between her head and the corner of the metal table. Riddick pressed the blade against Daisy's throat, only hard enough to draw blood and a gasp, satisfied when Sarge's tresses were released, letting her fall to the floor. "Well, now what are you gonna do?" Daisy taunted, gritting his teeth as the blade went deeper.

            "What the fuck is going on?" Riddick's head snapped up, and he released Daisy, giving him a shove hard enough to make him topple over a chair and land hard on his side with a grunt.

            "Self-defense," Riddick started, holding his hands up.

            "Drop the weapon," one of the guards warned, cocking the gun in his hand. Riddick complied, glancing down to make sure Sarge was okay. "Self-defense, huh?" he asked, nodding at the second guard to check Sarge out. Riddick only nodded. A third guard appeared as the second stooped. His weapon was trained on Daisy, who was grumbling to himself.

            "She's out cold," the second guard said. Riddick recognized the voice and tried not to show it.

            "Cellmate defense?" Riddick asked with a shrug.

            "Against the wall," the first guard demanded. Riddick backed up until he felt the wall contact his skin, still holding his hands up. The guard patted him down, satisfied at finding no more weapons. Chris patted Sarge down, removing two shivs and pocketing them. Riddick was almost positive they'd show up in their stash room. The third searched Daisy, finding all sorts of items to confiscate, from weapons to drug paraphernalia.

            "We're just here for Daisy," the third said. "This looks legit. She's still out." Riddick let out a silent sigh of relief.

            "What the fuck?" Daisy gasped, but was smacked in the back of the head with the butt of a gun, hard enough to daze him without knocking him out.

            "We know you ordered a hit on the Sergeant, so don't fucking fight it," the third growled. "I don't have any problems killing you."

            "Take him to the hole," the first guard ordered. Daisy spit and sputtered, but was hauled to his feet and shoved through the room. "Don't worry," the first called, "you'll have plenty of company." They both glanced down as Sarge groaned, batting Chris away as she rolled over, her hand instantly going to the seeping wound on her head. The first guard kept Riddick against the wall, the gun still leveled at him, as Chris helped her to a chair. "You gonna behave yourself?" the first guard asked.

            "Don't have a reason not to," Riddick said with a shrug, lowering his arms. The guard kept his gun trained on Riddick, but let Riddick sit next to Sarge to inspect the wound.

            "Daisy ordered a hit on you," the first guard explained as Chris raised his gun to point at Sarge. Riddick scowled, but Chris, now out of the first guard's line of sight, winked to let him know it was okay. The scowl remained. "She needs to watch her back." Riddick nodded.

            "She can handle herself," he said with a shrug.

            "We should go," Sarge said, reaching back to touch the wound. She cringed, sighing at the spot of blood on her fingers. Riddick nodded. "Gotta stop by and pick shit up first." Another nod. She reached into her pocket, turning the chip over in her fingers before dropping it onto her bed. Riddick didn't even look at his before tossing it on his bed and nodding at the door. She followed him out, treading softly so the boots on her feet wouldn't thump. It seemed like everything was going in slow motion, and the stash room seemed so far away. They crawled through the opening, and Sarge started changing, tossing her boots into one of the backpacks stashed there, leaving her prison issues on the ground. Riddick's eyebrow rose as she pulled out a pair of camouflage cargos and a black beater. She shrugged. Next, she pulled on black elastic ankle braces and zipped up the large compartment of the pack. In the small front compartment, she stashed one of  the concussion guns, tucking the other in the back of her pants. Riddick hid a few shivs on him, one of the concussion guns, and was reaching for the other pack, when she held out a hand.

            "Twosy had cargos and a shirt in there too, if you want to change first. The cargos hold the guns better, and there's more pockets," she instructed quickly. "Never know what we'll find." He nodded, quickly changing and stashing again. She filled pockets in the bag with the water bottles and other items hidden in there, and tucked the codes in her back pocket. "Ready?" He nodded, then slipped through the opening and watching the hallways as she slipped the bags out to him. She replaced the grate to cover their tracks and nodded to a grate against the other wall in the corner. "In there," she whispered.

            "Convenient," he mumbled to himself, pulling the grate away, and ushering her in before grabbing his pack and following. She crawled through the vent silently but hurriedly, never pausing at which turn to take. He grabbed her ankle, holding her in place, as voices drifted through a grate a few paces ahead. She nodded, creeping closer.

            "Yeah, he beaned her good," someone said. Boots shuffled. "Good thing she knows how to stitch."

            "Why's that?" someone else asked.

            "Doc's dead." Sarge cringed. "Chris said he overheard someone talking about getting even for her shine."

            "Bet it was Daisy," the other snorted. "Crazy fucker. Hell, I wouldn't even mess with her if I had two tazers ready to go."

            "No joke," the first person continued. Riddick guessed they were guards. "But killing the doc is just wrong. Even convicts should know that."

            "Well, Daisy ain't your usual convict," the second muttered. "He thinks on revenge, not respect."

            "Convicts don't give a shit about respect." Sarge rolled her eyes, stifling an annoyed sign. "But a doctor's the best friend you could have down there." The voices were fading, and a door slammed. Sarge let out the sigh and started moving again. Riddick was dripping by the time the tunnel ended, and she paused, wiping her own forehead with a wrapped wrist. Feet shuffled nearby, and she continued to wait, staring out into whatever was beyond that grate. She glanced at him, but he couldn't deduce anything from it. After what seemed like an eternity, she slowly and silently pushed on the grate, shaking her head after a few tries. She reached down her leg and removed the screwdriver from a pocket. Riddick strained to reach out, cupping his hand under her working area in case the screw fell and she didn't catch it. If there were feet outside, there were guards outside, and it was quiet enough to hear a screw against vent metal. She put the screws in his hand, depositing them in a pocket, and she waited again until the timing was right.

            After another eternity, she tried again, successfully this time, and they slithered out noiselessly. Riddick darted behind a stack of boxes, keeping watch as Sarge replaced the grate. _Shit. This is the hangar,_ he thought, glancing around. _She's good._ Her bootless feet moved silently across the hard floor as she joined him behind the cargo.

            "You hungry Jake?" Riddick strained to hear. "I'm going to the cafeteria. Want to come?"

            "Someone has to stay here."

            "Well, shit, who's gonna come in here at three in the morning?" No answer, so probably a shrug. "What Anders doesn't know won't kill him." Sarge nodded. "I don't plan on taking much time. Ten minutes alone isn't gonna phase a fuckin' hangar, Jake. It doesn't matter. No flights are in or out for another hour." A chair groaned as it scraped across the floor, presumably away from a table, and two pairs of boots thudded closer, then further away. 

            "Did you see the game last night?" the guard evidently named Jake asked. It was the last sentence they heard of the conversation as the guards walked away. Sarge peeked around the corner of the box hiding them and her eyes darted around. _Shit. Camera._ She nodded at the camera, and Riddick nodded. They watched for a few moments, waiting until they were in a blind spot, and found another place to hide until the camera wasn't watching. Finally, she led him to a small ship, and smiled. He reached for the hatch lock and she shook her head. She ducked down, crawling under the vessel, and produced the screwdriver again to remove the access panel. It was removed quickly, and she hoisted herself up, motioning for Riddick to follow. He ducked into the pilot's seat and started taking in the control panel as she replaced the access panel. His hand was reaching out to touch, but hers darted out to grasp his elbow, shaking her head. His eyebrow rose, and she handed him the paper with the codes, tapping on a small screen with "ENTER CODE FOR ACCESS," followed by a blinking square. She leaned over his shoulder and typed in the first code on the paper, swearing under her breath when it was rejected. Three more later, and they were in, the ship humming to life.

            "We have to hurry," Riddick whispered. She nodded, crouching in front of the keypad.

            ENTER CODE FOR SYSTEM OVERRIDE, and another blinking square. She tried two before she found the right one.

            "We have five tries," she explained. Three codes left on the paper, so there was no worry of setting off alarms, only being discovered.

            ENTER CODE FOR LAUNCH. Blinking square. Code entered, accepted, and the ship was taxied out to the launch pad. Riddick watched as the bubble retracted.

            ENTER CODE FOR MANUAL/AUTO PILOT. Blinking square. "Shit."

            "Let me see," he said, taking the paper she'd snatched from his hand. He skimmed the last two codes, sorting through his brain, finally pointing.  She glanced up at him and he nodded, so she entered the code.

            MANUAL PILOT CONFIRMED. MANUAL LAUNCH READY. Blinking square. She strapped into the seat next to him, gasping as the taxi lock on their landing gear ground as the ship was released. His hands took the controls, and hers gripped the arms of the chair as the engines roared to life, glancing out the small back window to see the bubble reappear. Still no sign of the guards. She turned back to the front window and grinned, but it fell as her eyes fell on his scowl. It wasn't just concentration on the takeoff. This was too easy. 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

            Sarge chewed on her lip, watching Riddick concentrate on a flight path already programmed into the computer. Her brows knitted, drawing a dark shadow over her face, shined eyes glimmering through. _Something's wrong._

            "Riddick?" A muscle in his shoulder twitched – the only indication he'd heard her. "Something's wrong." He grunted, and she took it to mean he already knew. She fell silent, watching the stars streak by as the ship pressed on, full speed ahead. Toward the dark, uncharted territory past the planet only known as Asphyxia.

            "You know anything about ships?" His voice shattered the silence, and she started, staring over at him with wide eyes. When she didn't answer, he glanced over a shoulder at her, eyebrow poised. She shook her head no, and he sighed, nodding slightly as he leaned forward to switch over to auto pilot. "Don't touch anything," he growled, unbuckling his harness and standing, boots thudding as he checked out the small ship. She sat, still strapped in, in a chair against the wall just to the ass-end of the ship, hands folded in her lap as her fingers fought with each other, picking and pulling at dry cuticles and scabs. "Move."

            "Move where?" she asked quietly. He towered over her, hands on his hips, features drawn down in exasperation.

            "I don't give a fuck where you move, just move," he barked. Her eyebrow rose, eyes locking on his angrily as she unstrapped and stood next to him. They stared at each other for a moment before he crouched to search the area she'd occupied. He swore under his breath, dropping his head between tensed shoulders.

            "What?" He shook his head, and she crouched as well. "Fucking talk to me, Riddick," she demanded, eyes glinting as they narrowed at him. After a quick glance at her, he reached under her seat. She jumped slightly at the loud ripping of metal, and he dropped a small box with a blinking light into her hand.

            "That," he growled. Her eyebrow rose, and she turned the box over in her hand before looking back up at him as he stood. She shook her head, brows raised, but he didn't explain.

            "Okay," she said slowly. "So what is _that_?"

            "Put it in the expulsion chamber. Get rid of it."

            "What is _it?_" she repeated, standing slowly.

            "Tracking beacon. Get rid of it," he instructed. Her mouth fell open slightly, and she looked down at it like it was an alien chewing through her hand. "Now!" he bellowed, slightly satisfied as she flinched and scrambled to the rear, fumbling with the thing as she loaded and expelled it. "How the fuck did you survive all this time?" he muttered quietly. She turned toward him, face reddened with rage. "Don't know a fucking tracking beacon, can't fly a fucking ship."

            "Well, pardon me for not being a fucking expert at everything," she snapped, flopping back into her chair, the hate still shining in her eyes. "You know, you're a real asshole sometimes."

            "Fuck you." It was all he could come up with.

            "I have," she spit, crossing her arms over her chest.

            "Oh yeah, that's right," he drawled, lowering himself to straddle the pilot's chair. "You fucked just about everyone, didn't you?" Her eyes narrowed even more, nostrils flaring. He continued, saying everything that came to mind that would possibly tear into her already fragile psyche. He didn't know why. He just felt like he needed to. It was cathartic. The stress of concentrating so hard on a flawless escape with as little planning as they had just built up, and he couldn't think of a better way to let it loose without a punching bag. He was in the middle of a sentence when she launched from her chair, connecting a mean right hook with his jaw. Instantly, the beeping started. "Aw, fuck," he groaned, using the two wrists now captured in his hands to propel her back into her chair.

            "I didn't touch anything," she insisted quickly, glancing around the control panel at all the flashing lights.

            "I know you didn't," he said quietly, strapping her in. A bruise was already starting to form on her cheek where he'd connected his own jab, and the twitching in her side made by angry muscles assaulted by his knee was visible through her shirt. The fight was forgotten instantaneously as he returned to his chair, flipping switches and pressing buttons in rapid fire succession.

            "Riddick –"

            "Shut the fuck up," he snapped. "Let me concentrate and we'll talk about it later, okay?" She didn't answer, just shut her mouth and scowled. The ship lurched as the autopilot was switched off, and she stifled a gasp.

            "Do you know anything about computers?" he asked quickly. Her eyebrow rose, but she didn't answer. He turned slightly, as though he were too distracted to turn his head completely to look at her. "Sarge?"

            "You told me to shut the fuck up." He sighed. "Guess you're assuming command, huh?"

            "You don't know how to pilot. I _am_ in command," he corrected. "Do you know anything about computers?" he repeated. Still no answer. "I give you permission to talk. Fucking tell me."

            "Yes."

            "Can you reach the mainframe and still stay strapped in?" She tested the harness.

            "Barely."

            "Good. Check this bitch out and see if there are any weapons loaded on her," he ordered. Her fingers moved at lightning speed as she searched.

            "Got a few things, but not much," she said quietly. "Couple of missiles on each side and a few thousand rounds of ammo for the gatling, but it's not much." He shook his head. "Why?"

            "Got us a tail."

            "Who?"

            "Fuck if I know." The beeping grew louder and more insistent. "Whoever it is just painted us though."

            "Painted us?" she asked, an empty pit growing in the bottom of her stomach.

            "Locked on. Ready to fire." She almost swore in response, but Riddick guided the ship on a gut-wrenching spiral to avoid a missile screaming past. Every time she'd puked in slam she'd not eaten long enough to know what regurgitated slop tasted like. Now, she got close enough to not want to find out if it was worse than the shit that almost came up during that maneuver. She groaned. "That's why I asked if you could stay strapped in."

            "Please don't do that again," she moaned.

            "No promises." She leaned her head back, suddenly pale. A slight sheen of sweat make her skin glisten and she shuddered. The com unit crackled, and she started to reach for it. "Don't," he snapped, holding a hand out to the side for emphasis. Her eyebrow rose. He couldn't have seen her. _Common sense,_ she told herself. _Most people would reach for it._

            "I know it's you, Riddick," a voice said over the unit, breaking up every now and then. "Don't make this harder on yourself."

            "Shit." It was barely audible. "You still strapped in?"

            "Yeah," she said warily.

            "Get the radar up." She reached out, typing madly until she found it in the system and got it stabilized. "You have to be my eyes." He was right. She couldn't send the image up to his monitor – the picture would be too small to be functional for him even if the software would allow for it. The navigation monitor she was working at was in front of the door her chair was behind on one of the walls jutting into the ship behind the pilot's chair. It was even with his side, and there was no way he could crane his neck to see it and still pilot.

            "You got one. Behind us to our right."

            "Just one?" he asked, voice incredulous.

            "That's all it shows," she said with a shrug. "I don't know how far out the radar goes."

            "How close?"

            "I don't know, Riddick." The tension was evident in both of their voices.          

            "Find out!" He heard the keys clicking furiously as she tried to find the program, short outbursts emitting here and there. "Hurry, Sarge," he pushed.

            "I am fucking hurrying," she snapped, eyes unblinking as she typed. "There. Kilometer and a half."

            "Hold on."

            "Oh, shit," she gasped. Riddick pulled the ship into a backflip, bringing their pursuer's ship into view in front of them. She groaned, holding her stomach as she doubled over, fighting to keep her last meal down. "I thought I said not to do that again," she whimpered.

            "That was the roll. And I said no promises," he returned, trying to lock onto the vessel now running from him. She watched his hands, cringing as he pulled the trigger.

            "Defense system malfunction. Missile not armed," an electronic voice lilted. "Defense system malfunction. Missile not armed. Defense system malfunction. Missile not armed."

            "Sarge?"

            "Got it," she said quickly, returning to the keyboard and searching out the munitions program. "You're armed." The electronic voice stopped, and he swore as he tried to get the ship into his sights again. A slow beeping, and then a constant one as he locked on and fired.

            "Holy shit," she whispered, dazzled by the swirling pinks and whites of the explosion. Riddick's jaw was set as he averted the wreckage, now floating in space. He eased back on the throttle, an eerie silence settling in the ship. Leather groaned as she leaned back in the chair, letting out a long, slow sigh.

            "Well, that was fun," she murmered, rewarded with an evil chuckle from up front.

            "You got an extra two thousand, give me your piece, and the cruiser's yours." Sarge sighed. She was leaned against the wall outside the doorway on which no door was hung, one foot propped up against the concrete behind her as she listened to Riddick barter with the dealer. _Just fucking take it,_ she thought with a mental scowl. Too many people were milling around, and most of them gave her the creeps. Granted, she probably gave a lot of people the creeps, but still.

            "One thousand and the ship," Riddick insisted. She sighed, shaking her head slightly. _Cheapskate._

            "Fifteen hundred and the ship."

            "Twelve fifty and the ship." A pause, and Sarge turned her head toward the doorway.

            "You're killin' me, man," he dealer sighed. "Fine. Twelve fifty and the ship. No warranty."

            "Don't need one," Riddick said with a shrug. "Deal." She heard the beep as the credit chip was read and processed, and the jangling of keys being handed over. "We got one." She looked up at him, eyes moving up his torso slowly to meet his eyes.

            "I can hear," she said, quirking an eyebrow at him as she cocked her head. "It's a cruiser, huh?" He shrugged slightly, and she followed him as he walked down the lot. A sleek black cruiser caught her eye, and she licked her lips. She might not have known much about ships, but the one before her was definitely a turn on. Her steps slowed, but he walked past it, and she sighed. _Wishful thinking_. "You've got to be kidding me." He jammed a key into a ratty, beaten up scrap and turned to her.

            "What?"

            "This piece of shit?" She pointed at it, brows knitted in a glower. He grunted and jerked the door open, the metallic groan not helping her impression of the craft. "Christ."

            "It's efficient and low profile," he insisted.

            "It looks like it's already survived a fucking war," she pressed.

            "It has." Her face fell, and she just stared at him. "Ten year old prototype for a reconnaissance ship for the wars on Earth converted to a cruiser."

            "Fuckin' ay," she moaned, rubbing her forehead.

            "Completely rebuilt."

            "Really."

            "Yeah," he said, hoisting himself into the cabin from the cockpit door he'd just unlocked. "Where it counts." She sighed and followed. _At least it's a bi-level,_ she thought as she glanced around. _Not fancy by any stretch, but if he says it runs, I guess I'll just have to trust him._  "Which room do you want?" he asked over his shoulder, pointing at a beam at the bottom of a doorway she knew she would eventually trip over.

            "You're giving me a choice?"

            "Same size. Doesn't matter to me," he said, pointing to each of the rooms.

            "I don't care."

            "Left handed or right handed?" She glanced at him.

            "Right," she said slowly. He nodded at the room to their right and stepped into the one on the left. _Guess I get the one on the right then._ She entered slowly, taking in the room one square centimeter at a time. It would do. His boots thumped into the hallway, pausing outside her door.

            "You got that chip Twosy stowed?" She nodded, pulling open the closet door.

            "Why?"

            "We got some shopping to do." Her eyebrow rose as her eyes met his. "Don't have a washer or anything, and my clothes are starting to get stiff." She smirked.

            "You got the prison issues." He scowled, and she laughed. "Yeah, I guess."

            The floor vibrated as the engines purred to life, a sudden rush of cold air prickling her skin, prompting goose bumps. She dropped her bag to the ground and glanced up at the vent grate.

            "Fuck." There was no way to close it. _Good thing I got an extra blanket_. She returned to her new clothes, ripping off the tags before folding them and hanging them. _Not a lot, but it'll last,_ she thought with a slight grimace. _Have to recycle for a while until we can get a washer and dryer on this thing. At least we have a dishwasher. _We. She paused at the word. It wasn't a familiar one, and it made her slightly nervous.

            "You okay?" Her eyes snapped to the doorway and she glanced over him. _No boots. No wonder I didn't hear him. _She nodded, reaching for a pair of leather pants, feeling his eyes on her as she pulled off the tag and hung them in the closet. The bed creaked as he sat down.

            "You already got situated?" she asked quietly. He shrugged. _Probably just threw everything in the bottom of his closet and forgot about it,_ she thought with a small smirk.

            "Sure you got everything you need?" She glanced at him before returning to her unpacking. "We're leaving in a bit. Don't want to forget anything essential."

            "I have everything," she returned equally as quietly. His eyes followed her as she picked up a bag, setting it next to him before pulling out a drawer. He focused on his hands in his lap as she loaded her new underthings into the dresser, looking up as she walked back to the foot of the bed and grabbed another bag, this one full of pajamas. She stood in front of him again, leaning over slightly to load another drawer. He reached out, settling a hand on her hip and pulled her backward toward him as he stood. She braced herself, starting as his lips settled on her shoulder, arms sliding around her waist. He grunted as she drove her elbow into his side and untangled herself from his grasp.

            "What the fuck was that for?"

            "You still haven't apologized," she stated plainly, returning to loading her clothes into a drawer.

            "For what?" She glanced over at him quickly, then looked back to her work. "Oh, that." He sighed. "I was stressed, okay? The escape, takeoff, not knowing the ship – "

            "I don't want an excuse, Riddick," she interjected, snatching up the empty bags to toss in the small garbage can built into the wall next to the dresser. She took up another bag and left the room. He swore to himself and followed her down the hall, leaning over a little to avoid smacking his head on the doorway in the middle of the walkway. He watched in silence as she found places for her things in the bathroom, finally pausing and leaning against the counter, looking up at him expectantly.

            " I'm sorry." Her eyes left his. "It was the heat of the moment, Sarge."

            "Don't call me that." His brows knitted. _Don't call you that? It's your fucking name. _"Sarge is dead."

            "So what do you want me to call you?"

            "Call me whatever the fuck you want to," she said quietly, brushing past him and through the door.

            "Christ."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

            She stood in the small kitchen, leaning against the counter as she slowly consumed a nutrition bar. Growing up, she'd hated the damn things, but after slop anything was a delicacy. This time, she heard his socked feet pad past the hallway and stop in the kitchen doorway. She didn't glance up, instead returning to her thoughts as he rummaged through the refrigerator and cabinets, finally settling on a glass of water. Takeoff had been much smoother than she'd anticipated, and her faith in his choice of spacecraft strengthened. Slightly.

            "Nutrition bar?" he asked quietly. She shrugged, looking down at the half-eaten bar in her hands. "You spent how much on food and you're eating a god damn nutrition bar?" Another shrug. He sighed. "Seriously." She glanced up at him quickly. "What do you want me to call you?"

            "You're still stuck on that, huh?" He only looked at her. She reached out for her can of soda on the counter next to her and took a long, burning gulp. "Dakota, Kody, Bitch, Whore." She shrugged. "Whatever." He shook his head. "I'm the only other person on this ship, so if you yell 'hey you' I'll know you're referring to me."

            "I said I was sorry."

            "I know," she said, meeting his eyes again.

            "I didn't mean it."

            "I know."

            "Any of it."

            "I know," she said before taking another bite of the bar. "Chill." He sighed, eyeing her as he took another drink of water. She eyed him back as she swigged more of the soda before finishing off the bar and tossing the wrapper. "So what now?"

            "What do you mean, 'what now'?" he asked quietly. She picked up her soda can and sat at the table across from him.

            "Where are we going? What are we going to do? How are we going to make money? Are we going to get new papers? What's the plan?" she ticked off, running a finger around the rim of the can.

            "I don't know yet."

            "You don't know where we're going right now?" she asked, arching a brow as he shook his head. "Well, I'd like to stop by the old apartment and pick up a few things before they do."

            "They."

            "Company," she said with a sigh. "Once they find out I'm gone, that's the first place they'll look."

            "And you want to risk running into them because…?"

            "I have to pick up a few things before they do."

            "Awful secretive, aren't we?" She didn't answer. "Where?"

            "Pomodora," she said quietly.

            "On Castia?" he asked. A small nod.  "Shit."

            "What?" she asked quickly.

            "You have any idea what their air security is like?" She shrugged. "It's a fucking fortress, Sarge." She glanced up at him sharply. "Uh, Dakota." She granted him a small smile, but it didn't last.

            "Don't worry about it," she said quietly. His eyebrow rose. "Just trust me."

            "Trust you."

            "Yeah." Her eyes held his confidently, and he held his hands up.

            "Okay," he said warily. "Hope you know what you're doing."

            "Just settle into orbit and we'll make contact at 10 pm their time, not a minute sooner." His eyebrow rose but he didn't question her. She stood and headed down the hallway, disappearing into her room.

            "Unidentified craft, please identify yourself for clearance." Riddick eyed the com and glanced over at Sarge sitting in the navigator's chair. He reached out slowly, but she beat him to it, so he continued his approach.

            "This is the Stargazer. Who am I speaking with?"

            "This is Tim Holland, Castia Traffic Security." She grinned.

            "Timmy, darling. Do be a doll and instruct us to the proper docking bay."

            "Corbett?" Riddick's eyes darted over to Sarge, but she had a huge smile on her face. "That you?"

            "Just give me permission, Timmy."

            "Granted. Get your ass down here," the com crackled. "Dock A100. I'll meet you out there." She replaced the hand unit and nodded for Riddick to start the descent.

            "I take it you know him?" he asked.

            "Old Ranger buds," she explained. "Why do you think I had the timing down to a science?" The craft was silent as he landed and taxied to their assigned dock. She undid her harness and stood, stretching lazily with a groan. After ducking into her room, she led him down to the asphalt and over to a sizeable man now approaching them.

            "I don't fucking believe it," Tim said, a grin now spreading over his face. She returned the smile, jogging toward him, their paths meeting in a tight embrace. "Who's this?" he asked, nodding at Riddick as Sarge pulled away.

            "A friend." His eyebrows rose, but he only nodded.

            "Tim," he said, sticking out his hand. Riddick shook it, but didn't speak.

            "Look," Sarge said quickly. "Can't stay long. I have to run by the apartment and pick up some stuff before we head back out."

            "Already cleaned it out," Tim said with a shrug.

            "You're shittin' me. When?" Sarge asked.

            "Couple weeks ago. I knew something up when a set of Company ships pulled in with pre-landing clearance." Sarge swore. "I'm pretty sure it was just superficial. You should be okay."

            "They're gone then?" she asked. Tim nodded, and she let out a relieved sigh, shifting the backpack slung over her shoulder. "How much longer is your shift?"

            "An hour." She nodded.

            "I'll meet you at Rocky's in an hour and a half."

            "Sure thing," Tim said, giving her another short hug before heading back up to the watch tower.

            "What the hell was that all about?" Riddick asked once Tim was out of earshot.

            "He's a friend of mine, Riddick. Don't worry about it."

            "We'll see what you say when you find yourself against a wall with a group of Company monkeys lined up with tazers and concussion guns."

            "Calm down," she groaned. "He's not gonna turn us in." Riddick shook his head, speeding up his steps to hurry her. "He saved my ass a dozen times in the Rangers. He's like a brother to me." She stopped, grabbing Riddick by the elbow to stop him as well. "I trust him. Completely."

            "Whatever you say," Riddick relented. "Your call." She sighed, resuming her steps as she shook her head. She led him down a maze of dark alleys and streets, finally stopping in front of a high rise.

            "We'll have to go in the back way," she instructed, pointing at a fire escape. He nodded, assessing the building. The fire escape was relatively hidden from street traffic, the building adjacent lacking windows. She shifted the bag on her shoulder to pull the second strap over her shoulder, tightening the straps before free climbing the ledges in the brick wall to reach the fire ladder. Riddick followed suit, and she led him up several flights of metal stairs before pausing under an access window. He paused on the level below her, watching her peer into the apartment. "Stay here," she instructed. He nodded, watching her wrestle with the window before it finally gave and she disappeared inside. The longer she took, the more nervous he became. _Shoulda__ stayed on the ground_, he scolded himself, holding his breath as someone walked by below him. Just as he was about to climb back down, she reappeared, closing the window before starting down the series of ladders.

            "Get it?" She nodded. _Whatever the fuck the 'it' is that was so fucking important, _he added mentally. Back through a maze of alleys and streets. "So am I going back to the ship or what?"

            "You can come to Rocky's if you want to," she said with a shrug.

            "What is it?"

            "Bar." He nodded. _Might as well.__ I could use a drink. _"Nothing fancy. Just a bar."

            "And you're okay with going out in public," he pressed. She stopped walking in the middle of the street, turning to him.

            "Why do you think air traffic control is so tight here?" she asked.

            "Never really thought about it," he said with a shrug.

            "Okay, think about this," she pushed. "Company ships are an oddity here. Everyone notices when Company's in town, and everyone knows something's up when they show up. Why do you think that would be?" Riddick glanced over her shoulder at a man walking down the street wearing a huge smirk. She turned as well, waving at the man, who nodded back to her.

            "You know him?"

            "No, I don't know him," she snapped.

            "What is this, a mining colony?" She smirked. He'd noticed the man's shine, too.

            "No, it's not a fucking mining colony."

            "I'm not following," Riddick said slowly.

            "What do you know about Castia?"

            "It's got tight security." _What the fuck is she playing at?_

            "Pomodora is the only remaining convict colony in the charted universe, Riddick. Castia used to be a prison planet, but there were too many escapes, so they just let it go. Cut off contact for a while until they figured out the convicts were colonizing. Charted it and started rumors it was a high-security Company mining colony to keep people from migrating when they were in trouble and needed to lay low." Riddick's eyebrow rose. "There's more Company patrols now than there were fifteen years ago, but people don't mess around here. Company comes in, people notice. They make people think it's monitored tightly, but it's the people here that do the monitoring, not Company. Unless something major is going on, Company stays the fuck away."

            "What's with all the talk about Company?" Sarge's eyes shifted over Riddick's shoulder, and he turned. Tim appeared out of a shadowy alley, a bemused expression playing on his face.

            "Riddick's just uptight," Sarge groaned, rolling her eyes.

            "Riddick, huh?" Tim asked. "Thought you looked familiar." Sarge smiled, wrapping an arm around Tim's waist.

            "Why don't we cut the chat and get some food," she suggested, giving Tim a light squeeze. "I'm starving."

            "So tell me something." Riddick's eyes met Tim's, and Sarge lifted her beer to her lips, waiting for Tim's question. "How the fuck did you get hooked up with her?"

            "Not by choice, I can tell you that much," Riddick said, leaning back in his chair as Tim chuckled. Sarge only scowled.

            "They threw him in with me at the big A," she answered.

            "Oo," Tim started. "I heard a nasty rumor you got transferred there." She shrugged. "Didn't believe it."

            "Well, start believing, Timmy," she said quietly.

            "Butcher Bay wasn't good enough for you, huh?" Riddick snickered. "Yeah, I heard they couldn't hold you," Tim said, nodding at Riddick. "But Corbett here is a bit more accepting of punishment."

            "Like hell I am," she snapped. "Didn't have the fucking resources."

            "And you did at Asphyxia, huh?" She cringed, and Tim's face reflected his concern. "Talk, Corbett." Riddick's eyes shifted to Sarge, who was now leaning over her beer.

            "This ain't hacking it," she said quietly, picking up the mug of beer and setting it back down on the table.

            "Got it," Tim said, standing and walking back over to the bar. Riddick watched her, but she didn't look up at him. Tim returned a few moments later, three shot glasses in one hand and a fifth of whiskey in the other. "That better?" She reached out for a glass and the bottle with a grin.

            "Much," she quipped. "Thanks."

            "Sure." Tim cleared his throat and glanced at Riddick, who shrugged, taking the bottle Sarge held out to him and pouring himself a shot. She threw hers back without even the slightest cringe and set the glass down, spinning it around on the table between her fingers. "You were saying?" Tim pressed.

            "I got transferred because the good warden of a new prison found out I was in with the boys at Butcher Bay," she said quietly, taking the bottle from Tim for another shot. _She's gonna be drunk before the food gets here at that pace_, Riddick thought with a slight smirk.

            "Okay, so the warden at Asphyxia wanted some inmates," Tim guessed. "Why you?" _Definitely gonna be drunk_, Riddick thought.

            "You know who the warden there is?" she asked slowly. Tim shook his head, and she sighed, still spinning the glass. "Anders."

            "Shit."  She nodded. "Your uncle?" Another nod. "Hell."

            "Yup," she said, pouring yet another shot.

            "Easy, Corbett," Tim warned. She glared at him, eyes already getting fuzzy.

            "If I have my way, one of you is gonna be carrying me home," she drawled, her speech showing the first signs of slight impairment.

            "You got out, though," Tim said. "You got away, and now it's over."

            "It'll never be over," she answered quietly. "Not until he's dead." The waitress appeared out of nowhere, setting down their plates and disappearing again. Sarge played with her fries for a few moments of unsettled silence before finally attacking. They ate in silence, Riddick and Tim exchanging glances while the other was watching Sarge eat.

            "So is she okay?" Tim asked, glancing at Riddick.

            "Looks like she's passed out to me," Riddick said, reaching across the table to poke at her.

            "That's not what I meant."

            "I don't know," Riddick said with a sigh. "Seems like it, but she doesn't exactly strike me as the type to wear her heart on her sleeve."

            "So what's your story?" Riddick's eyebrow rose. "My guess is you could have gotten out without her," Tim said with a nod toward the sleeping woman in the seat across from him.

            "She had the map." Tim just looked at him, waiting for more, and Riddick sighed, leaning his elbows on the table as he rubbed his eyes. "Anders had a bad habit of snatching her out of the cell. She saw the floor plans on his desk."

            "Nice to know someone with a photographic memory, huh?"

            "Yeah, I guess," Riddick said, glancing over at Sarge again. "Too bad it had to be under those circumstances."

            "Yeah," Tim said with a nod. "But you got her out." Riddick didn't reply. "Don't get pissed off or anything," Tim continued slowly, "but from everything I heard you were a one-man act." Riddick nodded.

            "I was." He didn't offer more, but Tim didn't ask. _What the hell._ "You heard about the Hunter-Gratzner?" Tim nodded. "Three of us got out." Tim's brown eyes widened. "Docking pilot talked me into going back for the other two and…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know what happened. There was something about her that… Fuck, I don't know."

            "Changed you."

            "Yeah, I guess. It ended up being me, a holy man, and a kid. The kid was taken with me, so I let her tag along for a while." He sighed, reaching out for the whiskey. "Got to the point where I felt bad for making her live in the dirt with me, so I sent her on her way to a better life." Tim listened, glancing at Sarge every now and then. "The more I tried to move on and go back to my old life, the more I missed her. So I tracked her down and tried to make things right again, but…" He threw back the shot, and filled up the glass again, not continuing until he'd downed it as well. "Fuck. Shit happened and she got caught in the crossfire. They hauled me in, and I met Sarge." He cleared his throat. "Uh, Dakota. Kody. Corbett. Whatever." Tim's eyebrow rose, and Riddick chuckled. "She doesn't want me to call her Sarge any more, but I never really knew her by anything else." Tim chuckled.

            "Yeah, she's still pissed about that dishonorable discharge. Gives the right impression in prison for people to leave her alone, but she hates it." Riddick didn't reply. "We should probably get her back."  Riddick glanced at Sarge, who was still conked out.

            "Yeah, you're probably right."

            "Which room is hers?" Tim asked from the hallway. Riddick stood in the kitchen, pondering whether or not he really wanted water.

            "First door on the right," he called back. Tim appeared in the kitchen a few moments later.

            "You know, you guys are more than welcome to come back here whenever. She knows when I'll be at the tower." Riddick nodded, and Tim looked over at his shoulder toward the row of rooms. "Anything happens to her…"

            "I'll let you know," Riddick finished, sticking out a hand. Tim smiled slightly, returning the handshake before leaving the ship. Riddick rubbed his forehead and gave up on the water, trudging down the hallway. He paused in Sarge's doorway, leaning against the frame. She was sprawled on the bed, hair a mess, clothes twisted, and snoring quietly. He chuckled, shaking his head before closing the door to her room and retiring to his own.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

            Dakota groaned and rolled over, letting her arm hang off the side of the bed until it went numb. She pried her eyes open, unsurprised at how dry and itchy they were, given the amount of alcohol she'd consumed the night before. A heavy sigh, and she decided she might as well get up. Riddick was already in the kitchen, coffee cup in hand as he poured over maps and charts.

            "Morning, bum," he said quietly. She grunted and poured herself a cup of coffee, flopping into a chair next to him. His eyebrow rose as her head thunked down onto the table, and he barely suppressed a chuckle. "So was it worth it?"

            "Was what worth what?" she mumbled, the table making her voice muffled.

            "Getting drunk and the hangover respectively," he answered. She shrugged.

            "I'll be fine." They sat in silence for a while, Riddick not wanting to ruffle a groggy Datoka, and she just didn't have anything to say. She finished her coffee and rinsed the mug, locking it into the dishwasher. "So what's the plan?"

            "Figure we could lay low for a while," he said with a shrug. "Hang around here for a while." Her eyebrow rose, and his did as well in response.

            "You mean on the cruiser." Mostly statement. He nodded. "For how long?" A shrug.

            "You got a better plan?" he asked quietly, returning to his charts.

            "Apartment rent is cheap here," she said slowly. His eyes darted up to hers, but she only shrugged a shoulder. "Weekly, even."

            "No," he decided quickly. She sighed.

            "Why not?"

            "Because."

            "Because why?" she pressed.

            "Because I fucking said so, okay?" he snapped. She frowned. "We have to be close to a transport, and staying on the fucking ship is the closest we can get, so that's what we're going to do."

            "There's more security around the –"

            "I don't care," he interjected. "We leave when we have to. Absolutely have to," he clarified. "No leaving unless it's unavoidable." She nodded slowly, eyebrow still quirked above her eye.

            "Fine," she said simply, still staring up at him. He hadn't thought it would be that easy, but let it go.

            "Hey Riddick?" Kody leaned against the doorway, watching Riddick's arm hover mid-air. He glanced up from working on something in the engine room. "I'm bored." He sighed, returning to his work. Her boots thudded down the metal staircase as she descended slowly into the dark room.  "Do you, uh…" she trailed off, pausing at his quick look. "Do you want to go into town with me?" He dropped the wrench and ran a hand over his head. She didn't have the heart to tell him he smeared grease all over it. He probably knew anyway.

            "For what?" She sighed, plopping onto the bottom stair and gazing up at him.

            "I don't know, just walk around. Get some fresh air," she said quietly.

            "I thought I said—"

            "I know what you said," she interjected. "I'm sick of being cooped up in this god damn ship all the time. There's nothing to do except watch you tinker around with whatever the fuck you're playing with right now." His eyebrow rose. "It's not like it's being used anyway. We just sit here and do nothing all the time."

            "So what do you want me to do about it?" he snapped.

            "I don't know," she retorted. "Maybe ease up a little. Chill out. Enjoy yourself once in a while." He shook his head, picking up the wrench and going back to work. "Hell, enjoy me." She shuddered as his eyes ran over her.

            "What was that?" he asked quietly. She sighed, dropping her head in her hands.

            "I can't do this anymore, Riddick."

            "Do what?"

            "This," she said, watching him replace the tool in its box and wipe his hands on a dirty rag.

            "What?" he pressed. She shook her head, stifling another heavy sigh.

            "Living here with you," his eyes snapped up at her, but she wasn't looking at him. "Just—" she paused, shaking her head. "Not doing anything. Staying here, not talking to anyone, barely talking to each other. I can't do it anymore."

            "So what are you saying?" he asked slowly.

            "I'm saying you have a choice to make," she answered, raising her eyes to meet his, two pools of silver mixing.

            "And that would be?"

            "Start treating me like an ally instead of a fucking prisoner or let me go and live my own life." Her eyes were firm and confident, holding his without wavering the slightest. He took a breath but paused, not sure what to say.

            "I'm sorry," he finally whispered.

            "For what, exactly?"

            "Making you feel like that."

            "Feel like what?" she pressed. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced around the small room.

            "I never asked you to stay, Kody," he said quietly. Her eyebrow rose.

            "I know that." He nodded slightly. "So what are you saying?" No answer. "You want me to leave?" His eyes met hers, but he didn't say anything. He couldn't – the words just refused to form. The light in her eyes faded, and she cocked her head to the side, shaking it slightly. "Fine," she sighed, standing slowly. "Sorry for being a stowaway."

            "Kody—" She waved him off, heading back up the steps. He swore at himself and followed, his boots ringing as they clanged up the metal stairs. "Kody, I didn't lock you up and throw away the key to make you stay here." She huffed into her room, almost slamming the door, but he caught it and swung it back open, standing in the doorway.

            "No, you just hid a threat behind telling me it wasn't safe to leave."

            "I never threatened you," he insisted, watching her throw neatly folded clothes into a wad of material in a backpack.

            "Not directly, no," she spat, "you didn't. But you made it clear there would be consequences if I even thought about sneaking out to – gasp – go buy a new book."

            "What the hell has gotten into you?" Riddick sighed. Her eyes met his angrily, holding his for only a moment before she returned to packing. "I mean, fuck, you never acted like you were pissed off before."

            "Well, maybe I'm just a better actor than you are," she mumbled.

            "A better actor?"

            "Oh, come on, Riddick. You've made it perfectly clear I was just your fucking road map out of slam."

            "That's not —"

            "Jesus, Riddick," she continued, her packing growing more hurried. "You needed me to get out, and you felt obligated to let me stay with you. Well, I'm sorry I overstayed my welcome, and I'm sorry I intruded on your life, but god damn it, Riddick, just fucking admit it."

            "Kody, look at me." She sighed, closing her eyes as she paused in her clothes-throwing tantrum. "Look at me," he repeated. She complied, praying the tears didn't break free. "I'm sorry."

            "You already said that," she snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Unless you have something new to say, don't bother opening your trap."

            "Jesus Christ," Riddick groaned, flopping onto her bed. "Is this about Chris?" The sudden pause in her movements gave her away, but he didn't point it out. Instead, he let her return to her packing fit. "It is, isn't it?" She shook her head. "Don't lie to me, Kody."

            "You never struck me as the do as I say and not as I do type, Riddick," she said quietly.

            "I've never lied to you," Riddick snapped. "Not one fucking time. Don't start this shit." She started at the sudden outburst, clutching a folded pair of pants to her chest. He sighed, shaking his head. "It's about Chris."

            "Yeah, it is."

            "If there was another way—"

            "There wasn't and that's the point."

            "No, it's not the point," Riddick pressed. "If you're still stuck on it, you must be thinking there was another way, so just tell me what it was so I can apologize for not thinking of it myself and we can get over this."

            "We," she said quietly, the snicker following seeming out of place.

            "Yeah, we. What about it?"

            "I hate that word." He frowned. "Too awkward of a word, you know?  Too much extra responsibility, too many chances to fuck up and get yourself hurt, too many distractions." She shook her head.

            "What are you saying?"

            "I can't do this any more. This we shit." Riddick's head dropped. "I can't."

            "Then what about you and me?" Her eyebrow rose, but she didn't look up. "Can you do a 'you and me' thing and not a 'we' thing?"

            "What's the difference?" She tossed the pants on the bed next to the backpack and reached into her closet.

            "Don't leave."

            "I have to," she said quietly, her eyes closing at the weakness in his voice. It wasn't natural.

            "Please." He watched her turn around slowly, the surprise unhidden.

            "Why shouldn't I?" He started to say something and stopped, his eyes falling away from hers. "What, your pride can't take another blow? I never would have guess you had such a fragile ego."

            "It's not that."

            "Then what the fuck is it?"  
            "I'm getting old, Kody."

            "Oh, Christ," she groaned.

            "Just fucking listen, okay?" he snapped, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe I don't want to spend the rest of my life flying solo anymore. I mean, did it ever occur to you that I might actually enjoy having someone else around?"

            "Who, me?" Those two words took the wind out of his sails, and he fell back on the bed, throwing his forearm over his eyes. "You haven't said a fucking thing to me in two full days, Riddick. Not one god damn word."

            "I'm not really the talkative type, Kody."

            "Okay, well, how about this? You haven't touched me – not a brush of a shoulder or an accidental bumping into – in a week. A whole fucking week; all seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes." He glanced up at her. "You want the seconds, too?"

            "Did you do that in your head?"

            "Yeah," she said, a quirky smile lighting her face for a fraction of a second. "Cute, huh?" He snickered, shaking his head. Her face fell, and she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "What the hell was I supposed to think, Riddick?"

            "You could have told me."

            "I have an ego, too, you know." He smiled, but it fell quickly at the pained expression she wore. She let it show only for a moment before shoving the last of her things into her bag. His eyes followed her fingers as she zipped it shut, falling on her face as she hoisted it onto her shoulder.

            "Please don't go," he said quietly, standing up from the bed. Her eyes focused on the ground as he walked toward her, stopping when his toes touched hers. She let them close as he ran a thumb down the side of her cheek, a finger sliding under her chin to raise her face toward his. Raw emotion shone in his eyes; perhaps a little fear, even. His lips met hers gently, but she pulled away, shifting the bag. "I'm uh," she licked her lips, glancing up at him and then focusing on the doorway. "I'm meeting Chris at the pub in five minutes." Riddick's eyebrow rose.

            "Chris."

            "Don't make this an issue, Riddick," she pleaded quietly. "Just—" She sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Just don't, okay?"

            "So I'm just supposed to let you leave me and run off with a fucking prison guard."

            "He's not anymore."

            "So he says," Riddick snorted.

            "At least he says something," she returned. She stepped around him and headed into the hallway.

            "Think he cares about you enough? Would he take a bullet for you, Dakota?" Riddick asked suddenly. She paused in the doorway.

            "Would you?" she returned, disappearing from the doorframe.

            "Yeah," Riddick said quietly, thinking it was to himself. She stopped, her hands suddenly shaking. "I would."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

            She knew he would follow her. He'd watch her meet Chris at the pub, maybe hiding in a dark corner, or maybe watching from the top of an adjacent building, but he'd be watching. The thought was shaken from her head as she sped up her steps, blinking the rain from her eyelashes. She rounded the corner and paused for a moment, glancing over her shoulder before entering the bar. He was sitting in a booth, swirling his drink around the bottom of his glass. The door creaked as it opened, and their eyes met. She had to force herself to smile as she sat across from him, waving at the bartender to ask for whatever Chris was drinking.

            "So did it go okay?" he asked finally, searching her eyes for the answer.

            "It went," she said with a shrug.

            "Are you okay?"

            "Yeah, I'm fine," she said quickly, dismissively, as though there would never have been a reason for the question. "Soaked, but fine." His eyes sparkled as she brushed a dark, wet curl out of her face. _Funny,_ she thought, _I remember him being more attractive than this. _The conversation pressed on – mostly about how Chris had gotten out alive and how he'd tracked her down.

            "So, uh, what have you been up to?" he asked slowly. She grinned.

            "Now, if I told you that…"  
            "Yeah, you'd have to kill me," he finished with an equal grin. She shrugged as though it were the most logical thing in the world.

            "Just sat at the port, mostly," she said, smiling at the bartender as he brought her another drink. "Putzed around the ship, read and reread a couple of books, nothing earth shattering."

            "He had you locked up in there this whole time?"

            "Not exactly, no," she said slowly. "He just thought it would be safer if we didn't venture out much." _There's that fucking 'we' again. Damn it._ "He's right," she granted with a small shrug. "I just bore easily."

            Riddick sighed and knocked again, louder this time. Finally, he heard the locks shifting and stepped away from the door. Tim opened up in the middle of a monstrous yawn, which dissipated with his surprise at seeing Riddick standing there.

            "What happened?" he asked quickly, his stomach falling.

            "She left." Tim's brows furled. Riddick looked exhausted. Tim stepped away from the door and gestured for Riddick to enter. With a heavy sigh, he flopped on the beaten couch, watching Tim lower himself onto the coffee table.

            "What do you mean she left?" he pressed.

            "She's meeting someone at the pub."

            "Who?" Riddick cleared his throat.

            "Guy that helped us out."

            "Helped you out as in did you a favor or helped you out as in helped you get out of slam?"

            "Well," Riddick said, cocking his head. "Both, come to think of it."

            "A guard," Tim deduced. Riddick sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Shit." He sighed as well, shaking his head. "Okay. I'll head over there and see if I can talk some sense into her."

            "You don't have to –"

            "I know, Riddick," Tim interjected. "She's making a big fucking mistake, and I don't plan on letting her find out the hard way."

            "Mistake in leaving me or mistake in hooking up with him?"

            "Well, both, come to think of it," Tim answered, grinning at his mimicry of Riddick's answer a few moments previously. Riddick smiled as well, but it was fleeting.

            "I don't know if they were just meeting there and leaving or staying there for a while," Riddick admitted.

            "I'll find her," Tim said quickly, pulling a coat over his head. "You stay here and take a nap or something."

            "Like hell—"

            "You look like shit," Tim insisted. Riddick grinned and agreed, watching Tim leave, the smile falling the moment the door closed. He felt like throwing an all out temper tantrum, complete with flying objects and screamed obscenities, but he contained himself.

            She was in the middle of a sentence when she sensed the change. Chris' eyes shifted over her shoulder when someone walked in, but quickly returned, meaning he didn't know who it was. But she did. She stared at a cheap painting hanging on the wall as he walked by, her peripheral vision catching him sitting down at the bar, never glancing her way.

            "Someone you know?" Chris' voice brought her back to the present, and she blushed slightly at being caught in her observations.

            "Old friend," she said quickly. "Not a big deal."

            "You sure?" She nodded, glancing at Tim again before returning to the conversation. None of what Chris said was registering, but she acted like she comprehended every word. After taking a swig of her drink, the look on his face told her she'd fucked up. "Go talk to him," he said quietly. Her eyebrow rose. "You haven't paid attention to a single thing I've said since he walked in here," he said with a smirk, giving the hand he held a light squeeze. "Go talk to him." She smiled and stood, feeling his eyes on her as she left the table.

            "What the fuck are you doing here?" Tim glanced at her, eyebrow quirked as he threw back a shot. He looked at the empty glass and back at her.

            "Drinking?" He sounded unsure, but it was so like the smartass Tim she knew and she had to smile. "I assume that's what you're doing here." She glanced over his shoulder at Chris and returned her gaze to Tim with a small nod.

            "Yeah, I'm drinking too." Tim looked over at Chris and back to her.

            "I see," he said quietly. "That explains a lot." Her eyebrows rose.

            "Does it?"

            "Yeah, it does," he answered. She sighed.

            "You're gonna have to tell me more, Timothy, and you know it." He shrugged, nursing another shot. "What does it explain?"

            "Why Riddick's sacked out on my couch right now." Her eyes fell away, focusing instead on a stain on the counter. "Just about busted my damn door down, all crying and shit."

            "Don't fucking lie to me," she spat, narrowing her eyes. He held his hands up, but didn't recant. She sighed, leaning her elbow on the countertop to rest her head against a fist. "Is he really at your place?" Tim nodded. "Fuck."

            "I thought you said you were drinking." She glared at him, but he only smiled. If there was one person that could get away with anything, it was Tim. "Okay, so he wasn't crying, but he was worried, and rightly so from what I hear."

            "And what do you hear?"

            "He's a fucking monkey."

            "And you're a fucking port monkey," she spat.

            "True, but we've got history," Tim continued. "What makes you think he's not lying to you about all this?"

            "About all what?"

            "Well," Tim sighed, "I'm guessing he told you he quit."

            "Yeah, so?"

            "What are the chances a staffer would quit his job to chase after a resident, even one as pretty and charming as you?"

            "Got proof?" she asked quickly.

            "Do I need it?"

            "Look, Tim, it's just as likely as Riddick actually being upset about me leaving in the first place, other than being pissed off that he couldn't corral me and I hurt his pride."

            "He's on my couch, Kody," Tim said quietly. "He came to my apartment, upset that you left him. Not that you hurt his pride, that you left _him_." She swallowed, glancing back over at Chris.

            "I can't go back now, Tim," she said quietly. "What if he gets pissed off and sends out an alert?"

            "Then you run."

            "And you?" Tim's eyebrow rose. "You were seen with me. By him. If he's willing to get even, he'll turn you in for aiding and abetting." She shook her head.

            "Don't worry about me," Tim whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll be fine. As long as Riddick doesn't spend more than a few hours at my apartment, I think I'll be okay." She smiled slightly. "Why'd you do it in the first place?"

            "Extra weight."

            "What?"

            "You know how they trained us to drop anything extra if we had to?" Tim nodded. Ranger training. Perfectly sensical – if you don't need it, drop it. "I felt like extra weight." Tim sighed. "So instead of making him drop me, I dropped myself for him, I guess."

            "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to be totally honest with me," Tim said slowly.

            "Here we go," she said with a small laugh.

            "Do you love him?" She thought for a moment.

            "Who?"

            "Riddick?"

            "No."

            "Could you love him?" Another thinking break.

            "Maybe.

            "And this other guy?" Tim pressed. She sighed.

            "You win."

            "It's not about winning, Kody."

            "I know. You're right though," she said quietly, glancing back over at Chris. "So what do I do about him?"

            "Feel him out for a while. Test him. Find out if he's likely to turn you in if you tell him you're going back. And then play it however you have to," Tim advised. She nodded. "I'll sit here for a while, just in case."

            "Thanks, Tim."

            "Anytime." He didn't watch her return to the table, not wanting to draw attention or send a signal of any kind.

            "Sorry about that," she said with a smile to Chris. He shrugged.

            "Friend's a friend," he said slowly.

            "Can I ask you a question?" she asked. He nodded. "You remember what I told you when you said you wanted to see me again." He got the hint.

            "You're going back?" Alarm bells went off, as a slight note of hope was evident in his voice.

            "Just tell me what I told you," she said without expression.

            "Lose the job, track you down, and we'd talk, no promises," he recounted. She nodded.

            "No promises," she repeated. "I can't do this right now, Chris," she said, trying to sound apologetic. He nodded slowly. "I'm just going to fly solo for a while, get my wits about me again, and then maybe, but I can't be with anyone right now."

            "Well, no promises, then," he said with a small, weak smile.

            "I'm sorry."

            "Don't be," he said quickly. "Why apologize for knowing what's good for you? No one else would know better." She smiled.

            "Take care of yourself," she said quietly. "I mean it." He nodded, a hand finding one of her knees under the table to give her a light squeeze.

            "You too." She covered his hand with hers for a moment and slid out of the booth, leaving the bar. On instinct, she walked around for a while, just in case he tried to follow her.

            Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw Chris pay the bartender and walk his way, trying to keep the smile off his face. Chris took the stool next to Tim and sighed, watching Tim glance over at him.

            "Have you known her for a long time?"

            "I guess," Tim said with a shrug. "I met her a long time ago, knew her really well for a while, but I hardly see her now." He met Chris' eyes, hoping he looked as honest as he needed to. "Strained past, really. Chance meetings are okay, but never more than a short conversation." Chris nodded.

            "I hope you work it out with her eventually," Chris said quietly, sliding out of the stool and heading out of the bar. Tim waited a few beats before paying his tab and following, watching Chris head straight to a small, dumpy hotel. He lingered for a few moments, just in case, before heading back to his apartment.

            She was sitting in a dark corner when Tim walked down the hall, jumping as she left the shadow. Neither said a word as Tim unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a distressed, exhausted Riddick staring at them. His eyes closed after falling on hers, and he leaned his head back against the wall. She managed a small smile at Tim, who took the cue and retired to his room, returning to the sleep that had been interrupted. He felt her sit next to him, further than normal, and his eyes opened to focus on her.

            "I'm fine," she said, before he could ask.

            "I'm not," he retorted quietly. Her eyes fell.

            "Why'd you send Tim?"

            "I didn't," Riddick answered. "He was right, though. No telling what would have happened if I'd shown up." She nodded.

            "I told him that I was going to fly solo for a while, so don't worry about him turning anyone in to get even," she said slowly.

            "Are you?"

            "Am I what?"

            "Going off by yourself for a while?" Riddick's voice was tight.

            "I'm not sure." His brows furled at her words. "Would you really take one for me?" Her eyes rose to meet his, searching for the truth.

            "I'd like to think so," he answered. "But you know how it is. You could say one thing and mean it completely, but when push comes to shove, no one really knows what they'd do." She nodded. "But yeah, I think I would." She smiled for a moment. He reached out, settling an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest, his eyes closing as her arms closed around him as well. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

            "Me too."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

            Riddick was asleep in the pilot's chair, feet propped up on the control panel, ankles crossed. Every now and then a muscle would twitch involuntarily, and he'd grumble quietly, shift slightly, and settle down again. It was dark outside, a violent storm brewing nearby, and only now and then would a sound pierce the silence, either leaves shaking or insects chirping. His eyes opened, and his chin turned slowly over his shoulder. The door next to him rattled, and he stood, the chair groaning in protest.

            "It's Tim," came a voice muffled behind the steel door. He groaned, rubbing his eyes before pulling the door open.

            "What?"

            "You need to see this." Riddick's eyebrow rose as Tim hurried into the cockpit, letting the door slam angrily behind him. Riddick sighed, slightly annoyed, as Tim fumbled with a storage cartridge, eyes searching for the connection. Riddick stuck out a hand and twitched his fingers, satisfied when Tim's shaking hands deposited the cartridge in his. He dropped himself into the chair again and loaded the material, pressing a few buttons to focus the image. It was a newscast. Tim's foot tapped nervously on the floor, but stopped when Riddick glanced at it.

            "The escaped convict, Dakota Corbett, has been captured." Riddick swore as a picture of her flashed on the screen, replacing the holographic news anchor briefly. He'd told her she should stay low for a while. "During an attack on Warden Anders of the maximum prison called Asphyxia, a guard managed to alert Company authorities. Company thwarted the assassination attempt, and Corbett, a former Army Ranger Sergeant, was taken into custody, transported to Company holding for questioning. We will report any additional information as it is declassified and released." Riddick saved the broadcast on the cruiser's hard drive and removed the cartridge, handing it back to Tim.

            "What are you going to do?" Tim asked quietly. Riddick was quiet for a moment.

            "Anders is still alive," he said slowly. Tim only nodded. "She's in a Company holding facility." Another slow nod from Tim. "No fucking way can we get her out of there."

            "You can't just let them hold her, Riddick," Tim snapped. "Do you have any idea what Company would do with a deserted Army Ranger turned serial killer?" Riddick's eyes flashed up to Tim's quickly. _Deserted?_ "They won't kill her, I can tell you that much." Riddick grunted in agreement.

            "How much money you got?"

            "What?" Tim's face registered his confusion.

            "It'll cost a pretty penny to buy her. How much do you have?"

            "Not enough," Tim answered, catching onto the plan.

            "Can you hack?"

            "Into what?"

            "Bank," Riddick said with a shrug. "Create a false account with virtual money? We could set up a wire transfer, and you could go pick her up." Tim's eyebrow rose.

            "Why me?" Riddick sent him a look, and Tim instantly kicked himself. Company would recognize Riddick. "Yeah, give me a few days." Riddick nodded in satisfaction.

            "Good."

            "What about you?"

            "What about me?" Riddick asked with a slight shrug.

            "What are you planning?" _Shit._ Tim knew he was up to something. _But how?_

            "Got some unfinished business," Riddick gruffed.

            "Anders," Tim whispered. His guess went unacknowledged.

            Kody sighed, craning her neck to get a better look at her restraints. She shook her head, letting her head drop to her chest, stretching her angry shoulders. The chains clanged a metallic song as she stretched what she could. A slow drip of water broke the silence intermittently, grating on her nerves. _Probably intentional,_ she thought with a grimace. She felt the blood dried on her forehead, guessing from the tenderness in her face she was bruised more than she was cut. She licked her lips, hissing as she broke her split lip back open, the copper tickling her taste buds. _Beautiful_. A small trickle of blood ran down each of her forearms, dripping off the elbow as the flow continued from the restraints digging into her wrists. _Maybe that's what the dripping sound is, _she mused, watching through the darkness to see that it wasn't the case.

            "Fuck!" Her outburst shattered the silence, overpowering that damn drip, and the lights flickered as they came to life again. She whimpered in pain, squeezing her eyelids shut, but it wasn't enough. _Damn it to hell_. Punishment for lack of silence. Once she quieted down long enough for their liking, the lights flickered off again. She was actually quite surprised they didn't issue the punishment for her stomach growling as loudly as it did. _Stupid me, had to rush to finish business. _She shook her head, her face twisting in a sour, disgusted expression. _Serves you right, you overconfident, arrogant, sloppy bitch._ Another heavy sigh, this time slightly stifled. She stared up at the ceiling for a while, trying repeatedly to push Riddick's face from her mind. _If he heard about this, he's probably more disappointed than I am. Failed your mission, soldier._ She shook her head. _No, he's thinking more along the lines of 'got lazy, got caught.'_ She glanced down at the door, and then focused on the drain in the middle of the floor. _Interesting._ Her eyes continued scanning the holding cell, as they had done for the past four hours. No food yet, no water yet, and she was starting to get tired. The shackles prevented her from sleeping, as they would cut in more and more the greater the weight of her limbs bore down on them. _Damn it._ She groaned inwardly as keys jangled outside the door. _Ready for another round already, fellas?__ It's only day one._

            Riddick watched from a corner as Tim typed furiously at the computer. He'd had to work in shifts, since the library had time limits for computer use. They'd been skipping around the city, visiting the computer centers in succession for four days, and Tim was getting close. If he didn't finish during the next shift, they'd have to make the rounds from the beginning again, and that would probably draw attention. Riddick, on the other hand, would only touch the computer once a day, checking news stories and trying to get into classified Company files and hospital records, trying to find out what he could about Anders' location and state, and any new information on Kody. He couldn't have gotten through an attempt by her without a scratch. Hell, he might not have even made it.

            Riddick sighed heavily and occupied the computer station across from Tim, who glanced up and managed a small, wry smile. He was almost there. The nod Riddick granted him was barely noticeable, but he caught it. But Riddick still had one more hospital to check. He printed the document, cleared the computer's history and stored files, and dropped the paper in front of Tim before leaving the library. Tim didn't watch, instead working faster. Time was dwindling. She wouldn't be alive much longer.

            "Good morning, Sergeant Corbett." She rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall, fighting the urge to rest her elbows on her head to relieve the pressure on her back. _No weakness_. "Mind if I call you Sarge?"

            "Yeah, actually," she ground out from between dry, cracked lips. Her throat was tight. "I do." Judging by the markings on his uniform, he was high up in the Company ranks. _Goodie. _

            "Well, then, Sarge," his eyes flitted up to hers, seemingly satisfied at the glare she sent him, "how are we feeling this morning?"

            "Well, first off it's kinda hard to tell it's morning without any fucking windows." A nod, and a female grunt as a night stick was jammed into her ribs.

            "Watch your mouth," the officer warned, glancing through a clipboard on his lap. She laughed, biting back a grimace at the pain coursing through her side. _That'll leave a mark._ "You were saying?" He met her eyes again. _No fear. Interesting. Then again, I am chained up, and he's sitting in a chair a good ten feet from me, so he's got a bit of a reason to feel safe. Grand._

            "Second off, there's only one prisoner in here, so the term 'we' doesn't really apply." _And damn the term anyway. 'We' is not a word with any meaning attached. If it were, Riddick would have gotten me the fuck out of here by now. Probably figures it serves me right just like I do._ The officer merely nodded, writing on a form on the clipboard in his lap. "Any new questions for me, or are you just going to repeat the old ones?"

            "I only have one question for you, Dakota." Her eyebrow quirked in defiance as his eyes met hers. "Where's Riddick?"

            "I don't know what you're talking about." She thought it was believable, but the officer didn't, nodding to the guard at her side again. Another good whack in the same place, and she didn't bother stifling the groan. "Mind changing sides next time?" she gasped. The guard only chuckled evilly.

            "One more time, Dakota," the officer said quietly, capturing his pen under the spring loaded clip on his clipboard. "Where is Riddick?"

            "I don't know. And don't fucking hit me again," she snapped, watching the guard wind up for another blow. "I honestly don't know where he is."

            "Where did you see him last?"

            "Out of curiosity, what makes you think I've seen him at all?" She glanced at the guard again, and, noting the twitch in his shoulder, added quickly: "then I'll tell you." The officer shook his head, and the guard lowered his club.

            "You were assigned a cell with him in Slam 1640, or as you call it, Asphyxia, and you escaped the same time he did." He paused, leaning forward a little. "And don't tell me it was a coincidence." She laughed quietly, shaking her head.

            "He dumped me off at Helion Two, and I caught my own transport to Castia, laid low for a while, and then ran into you lovely people." The club connected again, and black dots clouded her vision. It was going to be hard to stand up straight for a while. "Last time I saw him was on Helion Two, I swear." Her voice was weak, bruised ribs preventing her from taking a full breath. "He didn't tell me where he was going. We weren't friends."

            "That's not what I heard," the officer drawled. She spat, tasting the blood, and wiped her lips on a bared forearm. "Rumor has it you two were pretty close."

            "Yeah, well," she said with a shrug, "relationships change with the environment." His eyebrow rose.

            "Elaborate." It wasn't a request.

            "He needed me to get out, so he used me and dropped me." She winced, shifting her weight to alleviate some of the pain from her bruised ribs. "I expected it, and I played him back." He only stared at her, unbelieving. "Look, I've always worked alone, and he's always worked alone. This time, neither of us could, so we used each other. He did me a favor by getting me to Helion Two. Hell, I expected him to kill me once I got him to the ship."

            "Why didn't he?" She snickered.

            "Believe it or not, convicts understand respect." Her eyes met his, holding his stare evenly. "Unlike Company." The club's contact with the back of her skull echoed, but she wasn't conscious to hear it, or even feel the blood running down her arms again, the cuffs holding her wrists slicing into already scarring skin.

            "Warden Anders, please." Riddick watched Tim's face as he spoke, the phone encoded and pre-paid. Tim's eyes darted around, carefully watching their surroundings. "My name is David Migglione, I'm inquiring about a prisoner." His eyes met Riddicks for an instant, and then returned to scanning. "Thank you." Riddick waited. "Warden, I'm so glad you're feeling better." He could hear talking on the other end, but couldn't decipher the words. "I understand you're trying to get rid of the prisoner?" Tim nodded. "I have a business proposition for you, then." Tim grinned. "I'd like to take her off your hands, actually… No, no, she'll be kept secure, I assure you that… How much do you want?" Tim scribbled something on his notepad and showed Riddick, whose eyes widened in surprise. "That won't be a problem, Warden… Oh, you have my sincerest promise… Oh, no, she'll be a gift for a cousin of mine. He enjoys the wild ones. Unfortunately they don't stay wild long, and then, well, I'm sure you get the picture… Absolutely… I'll send one of my security personnel as soon as I can… That won't be a problem at all. We can get her in good enough shape to pass on without a problem during transport… No, thank _you._" Tim hung up the phone and relayed the conversation in warp speed.

            Kody teetered in and out of consciousness for a while, never sure when or where she was, only knowing she was locked up again. When she woke fully, her fingers were numb, her back ached, and her head swam. She sighed, swore under her breath, and struggled to stand up enough to lean back against the wall instead of being held up by her chains. This time, she rested her elbows on her head and wiggled her fingers, slowly bringing them back to life. _God, I must look like I survived an assassination attempt myself,_ she thought with a wry smirk. It fell quickly. Dizziness took over as she adjusted the vertebrae in her neck, and she slumped back against the wall. Her stomach no longer gurgled, begging for food – it knew it wasn't getting any. _Has to have been five or six days now_, she thought, shaking her head slightly. _Won't last much longer this way._Her legs quivered, and she couldn't tell if the positioning of her arms or the lack of food was making her belly dip inwards. _Not good_. She heard the groaning of water pipes and sighed in relief. _Water_. The shower overhead came to life, spraying stagnant water over her, but at least it was water. She tilted her head back, catching as much as she could before it shut off again. All she could capture was a mouthful, but it was better than nothing. The cell was silent again. She shifted her rear end against the wall, finally finding a big enough crack to rest the bottom seam of her waistband in and relax a little.

            "I'm a little teapot, short and stout," she sang quietly, looking around the room. She paused, sighing. "Here is my handle." She looked over at an arm. "Well, shit. My handle's broken," she noted. A shrug. "Here is my spout." She did what she could – curved her other hand outward. "When I get all steamed up, hear me SHOUT!" Her voice echoed, and she paused, a satisfied smile sliding across tattered lips, drawing more blood. She didn't notice. "Tip me over and pour me out." More voice was given to her sigh than needed. "Walk like an Egyptian," she continued. "Way-oh-way-oh-ooo-way-oh-way-oh." She snickered at herself. _Definitely cracking.__ Fuck. _Her stomach spasmed, and she indulged, dry heaving as she felt the restraints cut in and heard the chains rattling. _Not a good sign. _It was her last thought before she passed out again. Hours later, muffled voices brought her to, but she couldn't focus enough to make them out. 

            "How long has she been chained up?" Tim tried to keep the anger out of his voice, masking it with concern instead.

            "Little over a week," the guard answered. "She's a rowdy one, take it from me."

            "I've heard." Tim stepped into the holding cell, eyes still lingering on the form chained to the wall. Hair was matted with blood, which was also dried on skin and metal. Clothes were too big, hanging from trembling shoulders and hips, bare feet dirty and broken as well. He clicked his tongue. "I expected her to be in bad shape, but this…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

            "Change your mind?" Tim turned, watching the Company weasel waltz into the room.

            "No, I'm just surprised, actually."

            "Why's that?"

            "She's barely alive," Tim said, nodding at the woman slumped against restraints.

            "She's transportable now," the officer said coldly. "Roger here will carry her to your ship. We've confirmed the wire transfer. The prisoner is yours." Tim nodded to the guard, watching him approach the prisoner and unfasten the restraints, letting her collapse to the stone flooring. "God rest your soul," the officer added, disappearing down a hallway. A door slammed, and Tim reminded himself he only had a few meters to the ship, and they were in the clear. She was tossed over the guard's shoulder, and Tim led him back to the ship.

            "I'll take her," Tim said quietly, gingerly taking Sarge from the guard. "Thank you for your time and patience." The guard gruffed with a nod and watched Tim walk up the ramp, remaining until it was closed and the ship took off.

            Tim placed Sarge in a seat, strapping her in next to him. Once she was secure, he did a quick once-over for major injures as his patch went through to his apartment, where Riddick was waiting. As the connection secured and encoded, he started the takeoff.

            "Talk to me, Tim," Riddick said quickly.

            "Broken rib, looks like. Lacerations around her wrists and ankles, lip's split in a few places, bruises all over," Tim's voice was tight. "Starved and dehydrated." Riddick grunted. "I've got one major starjump, so give me a few hours and meet me at the docking bay." Riddick nodded and clicked off, and Tim concentrated on piloting. As soon as the hatch touched the ground, Riddick was aboard and checking her out, not speaking. Tim watched nervously.

            "Go, Tim," Riddick said quietly.

            "Is she-?"

            "She'll be fine, but you're not safe. Go now." Tim nodded, heading down the ramp. "I'll let you know where we land," he said quietly, following Tim to the hatch and closing it behind the former Ranger, managing a small wave. He programmed the cruiser for auto takeoff, and pre-set the pressure stabilizer so he wouldn't have to worry about bouncing around, though it would burn a lot more fuel. He left her for a moment, darting down the hallway to the bathroom to draw a tub full of warm water, and returned, gathering her in his arms.

            It wasn't an easy task of undressing an unconscious woman, but he managed, lifting her gently, and lowering her into the water. He settled for rinsing off the dried blood and grime, pulling the plug and turning on the heated air dryers while he reached for a towel. Residual blood and dirt smeared on the towel as he wrapped it around her, but he didn't notice, picking her up again and taking her down to the makeshift sick bay struggling to get her into clean scrubs – it was the closest thing to clothing he could find – and slipped her under the stark white bedding. His brows knitted in concentration as he started an IV, his hands shaking slightly from rushing. She was running out of time. He programmed the machine for nutritional aid as well as rehydration before stitching up the deeper lacerations, and finally collapsed into a chair next to the cot. He sat there for a while, just watching the liquid drip, before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the cot at her side, reaching out to smooth her hair away from her forehead. He tried to stay awake, but sleep won.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

            Her tiny whimper woke him, and he lifted his head slowly, inhaling deeply as sleep disappeared. Her eyebrows were drawn down over her face, curled in pain, and her fingers dug into the cot under her.

            "Kody?" She started slightly, but didn't acknowledge him. He reached out slowly, laying a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked, turning her head away with another small whimper. After a quick glance over his shoulder at the wall clock, he stood slowly, stretching his arms lazily above his head with a low growl. He walked back over to the medicine storage refrigerator and retrieved a pre-loaded syringe, injecting the sedative into her IV. She relaxed slightly, bending her wrist back and forth as the liquid ran through. He returned to his chair at the bedside, leaning back to watch over her. She moaned and shifted under the covers, burrowing deeper.

            "It's cold," she whispered, still working her wrist.

            "You awake?" he asked quietly, reaching out to stroke her forehead. She mumbled something incomprehensible, and repeated the complaint. "What's cold, Kody?"

            "Hurts."

            "What hurts?" he pressed.

            "Cold."  His eyes fell on her hand, which was still bending at the wrist over and over. "It's cold," she whimpered, rubbing the back of her hand against her stomach. He reached out, taking her hand into his to keep her from ripping the needle out. Her skin was warm to the touch, but she seemed to quiet down as long as his hands touched hers. He rubbed his thumb back and forth over her skin, avoiding the tape holding the needle in place. Curiosity got the better of him, and he unwrapped the gauze around her wrists, inspecting the lacerations from the restraints. His brow furrowed. They were deeper than he'd thought, still bleeding slightly. He reached for the antiseptic pads and unscrewed the lid, smiling lightly as she jerked at the contact. He knew it stung, but the last thing she needed was an infection. A change of gauze, and the same treatment to the other wrist, and he returned to just watching. Every now and again she'd twitch – the only indication she was dreaming – and then grumble and shift to a more comfortable position.

            He'd lost himself in planning Anders' future. He wasn't sure if death was in the picture, but he was definitely going to enjoy himself at Anders' expense. Her intermittent twitching failed to catch his attention any more, and his thumb just continued a lazy, repetitive journey over the back of her hand. He snapped back to reality at the gentle squeeze, his eyes focusing on her face once more. Her eyes were cracked open to slits, shined eyes glinting under thick lashes.

            "Hey," he whispered. She barely smiled, but it was enough. "How are you feeling?" She just mumbled something and blinked slowly. "Anything hurt?" A small nod. "Where?"

            "Wrist." His brows furrowed.

            "Which one?" She squeezed the hand holding hers. It was the one with the IV.

            "Cold," she whispered. "Joint hurts." He nodded, closing his hand around the needle. "How long?"

            "How long until what?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. He'd gotten a crick in his neck at some point.

            "No," she whispered, shaking her head as much as she dared. "There." His eyebrow rose, and she heaved a sigh, grimacing.

            "Careful," he said quickly. "Your ribs are broken." She nodded, swallowing thickly. "How long were you there?" She nodded again. "I don't know. Maybe about a week."

            "No food." He nodded in agreement. He knew. She took another breath, but he reached out with his free hand and laid his thumb over her lips, cupping her cheek as he shushed her.

            "You need to rest," he said quietly. Her eyes closed, but she remained awake.

            "So sorry," she whispered, seemingly in a daze.

            "For what?" he asked quietly, leaning forward to hear her. He'd figured she'd had just enough water to keep her alive, which would explain how quiet her voice was. She probably felt like she was yelling.

            "Stupid." He chuckled quietly, and she pried her eyes apart. "Got caught."

            "Yeah," he answered, nodding slightly. "You did."

            "Sorry." Her eyes closed again slowly, but opened when she felt him move. She stared up at his chest, feeling his lips press against her forehead. "Shouldn't have to."

            "Shouldn't have to what?" he asked, sitting back down next to her. She smiled lazily, swallowing again.

            "Telling them," she whispered, her smile falling and eyes closing again. He stood quickly, knocking the chair over. The clatter made her start, and she winced as he let go of her hand, letting it fall back to her side, prompting a small whimper.

            "Telling them what?" he demanded, the volume of his voice rising slightly. She shook her head, and he leaned down. "Kody, listen to me. You have to tell me what you told them so I can keep them away from us."

            "Too much." He waited. It seemed she could only get out a few words at a time. "Lotsa lies."

            "You lied to them?" He relaxed at her nod as the answer.

            "You dropped… me… Helion II." She paused to swallow and sigh, forgetting about her side but quickly reminded. "Got to Castia." His eyes widened. "Lay low… then Anders." He nodded. "Don't know." She shook her head, her eyes closing sleepily.

            "You don't know what?" He leaned over her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, but she only shook her head again. "Kody, you don't know what?" She swallowed, a pained expression flashing over her face.

            "I'm tired," she whimpered.

            "What don't you know?" She opened her eyes at his question and blinked a few times. She lifted her hand and placed her palm over his chest, feeling his heartbeat.

            "Where."

            "Explain that to me," he pressed, covering her hand with his again. She dug her fingers into his chest and closed her eyes. "Shit." He sat down, still holding her hand in his, mulling that piece of information over. _She doesn't know where. She doesn't know where she was, or where they were going? Fuck._ He heaved a sigh, rubbing his forehead. _Okay, she was talking about what she told them. She said I dropped her on Helion II, then she went to Castia to hide for a while, and then she went after Anders. And that she didn't know where… something was. What didn't she know where it was? _He growled out of frustration. _Guess I'll just have to wait until she wakes up again. _He stood, placing her arm under the covers next to her, tucking the sheets around her side. With a lingering glance over his shoulder, he airlocked the door behind him and headed up to the nav bay.

            After checking several news feeds and playing the broadcast announcing her capture four or five times, he locked down the control panel and headed into the kitchen. In the rush to get Kody out, they'd not stocked the ship well, so he settled on one of her leftover nutrition bars, chasing it down with a sip of water after each bite. _Don't know where._ He shook his head. It wasn't like she could lie to him in her condition, but it didn't make sense to him. He tossed the wrapper in the trash bin and moseyed back to the sick bay, his steps growing faster as the beeping got louder. _Shit! Shit! Shit! _He rushed to unlock the door, throwing it ajar, relief washing over him. She looked up at him angrily, dropping the IV she'd just finished removing. His eyes darted around the room, noting the vitals sensor hanging from the side of the bed as well.

            "Take it easy," he said slowly. She groaned, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Hey," he continued, inching into the room, hands outstretched as though she had a gun trained on him. "Just relax, okay? You're safe now." She swore under her breath and wavered, and he lunged forward to grasp her shoulder to prevent her from toppling off the small cot. "Easy," he crooned, helping her settle on her side. Her hand was still pressed to her forehead, and she writhed in the bed. "What's wrong?" She only whimpered, beginning to tremble. He swore. "Kody, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong with you."

            "Shh," she hissed, digging her fingers into her forehead.

            "Is the light too bright?" he whispered. The lights barely qualified as extremely dim, but it was the only thing he could figure. She moaned again, and he called the lights off, but she still didn't relax. "Tell me," he said quietly, rubbing her arm slowly. She curled her knees closer to her chest and whispered something. "What's that?"

            "Migraine," she whispered, a little louder, whimpering at the level of her own voice.

            "Can I get the IV back into you and get you on something?" Another weak whimper. He figured that meant no, but he hooked a new one up anyway, tossing the one she'd just ripped out of herself out of his way. He got it taped back down, quickly hooked up the vitals sensors again, and leaned closer to her. "Do you know what kind of drug it takes?" She nodded slowly, her face crumpling. "What?"

            "Fioricet," she answered. He nodded and rummaged through the medicine fridge, not finding any.

            "Don't have any," he said quietly. She swore.

            "Codeine, caffeine, Tylenol," she ordered.

            "Are you sure?" he asked slowly. A small nod.  He did what he could, only giving her the least amount he thought he could get away with, and she finally started unwinding. He righted the chair he'd knocked over earlier and placed it a little closer to the wall, nearer to her head, and lowered himself into it slowly. It'd been a long day.

            "Cold," she whispered. _Oh, great. This again._

            "What's cold?" he asked, trying to keep the frustration from his voice.

            "The damn IV drip," she returned. "Hurts my wrist." He smiled. _Oh, that. Makes sense, I guess_. "Can't nuke it?" He chuckled.

            "'Fraid not." She sighed, rubbing the tips of her fingers over her forehead. "Feeling better?"

            "Little," she said, managing a small shrug.

            "Good." He watched her for a moment, until she opened her eyes and watched him back.

            "Gave me the minimum, huh?" His eyebrow rose. "Least you thought you could get away with?" He smiled. "How much codeine?"

            "Half a dose," he answered. She wrinkled her nose at him. "More?" A small nod. He complied, watching the drug take effect, her eyes staring open for a while, the blinks slow and infrequent. "Better?" A lazy grin. "You said something about you didn't know where something was," he ventured. Her brows knitted, and she glanced up at him.

            "I did?" He only looked at her expectantly. "Context?"

            "What you told them."

            "Oh, that," she said slowly. "Words were hard to think of."

            "Sedative," he explained. She nodded.

            "I didn't know where you were."

            "They asked where I was?"

            "Well," she started, shifting further under the blanket. "You escaped the same day I did, and only one ship was stolen. What else would they think?" He grunted. "Told them you dropped me off at Helion II and I caught my own way to Castia so I could plan." She paused, tonguing a gash in her lip, feeling out the stitches Riddick had put in. "Anders?" Her eyes met his, and he noted a slight amount of fear in them.

            "Treated and released. Work release for two weeks."

            "So if I was held for a week, and it's been, what, a day or two here?" Riddick nodded. "He'll be going back to work soon."

            "Let it go," Riddick groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

            "Why should I?"

            "Because you're too fucked up right now to think about it," Riddick snapped. "You need to concentrate on getting better, and it's gonna take a long fucking time to even get close."

            "I'm not that bad off, am I?" she asked, a slight lilt of sarcasm in her tone. The look he gave her made the cocky smirk slide off her face. "Tell me," she demanded.

            "Your wrists are all cut up from the restraints. So are your ankles, but not as badly. Two broken ribs, a busted face." _Yeah, feels like it_, she thought with a wince. "Oh, and not to mention that you're half dehydrated and fully starved," Riddick finished slowly, as though holding something back.

            "What else?"

            "Nothing," he said quickly.

            "Riddick…"

            "You lost a lot of weight, Kody," he said quietly.

            "How much?" A pit of nervousness was growing in her stomach.

            "A lot."

            "God damn it, Riddick, how much?" She grimaced at the pain shooting through her temples at the outburst, but it made her feel better.

            "Thirty pounds."

            "In a week?!" His eyes met hers. "Christ."

            "Your clothes were falling off of you when Tim brought you back," Riddick continued. "Stomach was all caved in." She nodded.

            "I thought that was just because of how they chained me up." Riddick shook his head, and she heaved a sigh. The pain in her side was now barely noticeable, thanks largely in part to the codeine now in her system. "So, um…" she trailed off, pausing to glance at him before continuing, "what else did they do to me?"

            "I don't know. Nothing I can tell," he said with a small shrug. "Just threw you a good beating." She nodded.

            "I can handle that." Riddick nodded, catching the implication. She couldn't have handled it if she'd been raped, even if she didn't remember it. He didn't plan on telling her he hadn't checked. "I'm tired."

            "You can sleep," he said gently, reaching out to let strands of her hair slide between his fingers.

            "I didn't think you'd come for me," she whispered.

            "Why?"

            "Chris." Riddick grumbled. "I didn't deserve it."

            "That's what you get for thinking," he said quietly. A small smile touched the corners of her lips, and she blinked drowsily. "Sleep," he commanded.  


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

            Dakota woke slowly, groggily. _Damn sedatives_, she thought with a foul snarl. He still had the damn vitals sensors hooked up, and… yep… IV was still in. _Damn._ She sat up slowly, hoping her head wouldn't spin. Glancing around the room, she searched for a way out without sending Riddick into a panic again. She kinda felt bad about that. Granted, last time wasn't entirely her fault – she didn't know who she was, much less where she was and what she was doing there. With a heavy sigh, she focused on the vitals monitor, looking for a way to turn the damn thing off. She finally gave up and just found the plug, tearing it out of the wall, hearing the motor hum as it slowed to a stop. Satisfied, she pulled off the sensors, glad the beeping didn't start again. Grimacing, she slowly drew out the IV needle, tossing it on the bed, still connected to the drip bag. After rummaging around in the various drawers, she found a bandage and applied it where the IV had just been.

            The metal floors were cold on her bare feet, and she was sore all over. She shuffled to the door, turning the latch for the lock, and stepped into the hall, taking in the scenery of the ship. Evidently, Riddick had switched them out after she'd left, either that or he did some serious remodeling. She was on the bottom floor, she supposed, of at least a bilevel. The staircase was across a large, rectangular room, which had several doors along the walls. _Interesting,_ she thought. _More than two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, a dojo, and a med bay._ She shrugged slightly and moseyed toward the stairs, guessing the main floor was the next up. The aches and pains grew the more she moved, but she'd never been so hungry in her life. Her stomach agreed with a covetous growl, and she stifled a laugh. It would hurt too much to indulge.

            She slowly padded her way down the upstairs hallway, glancing into open doors as she passed. Though it seemed a fairly large ship, it was really on the large side of small, from what she knew. It was definitely a cruiser, but nowhere near luxury or residential. She'd even heard of colonial cruisers, where entire communities lived on one huge ship together. With both her and Riddick, this ship would probably prove to be a little too small, in reality.

            He'd heard the door open the minute she disengaged the lock, smirking. _Just couldn't take it anymore, huh_? He knew she'd have his dick if he rushed down there and forced her back into bed to rest, though it was probably the best idea, so he figured he'd just let her get sore at her own fault instead. He shook his head and returned to his coffee, hearing her bare feet shuffle along the floor. _Probably can't even lift her feet enough to walk the right way,_ he thought with a mental snicker. Her movement paused, and he glanced up. She'd not made it to the doorway yet – _What could possibly have her attention?_ Despite his curiosity, he remained in his seat at the breakfast bar. The old cruiser had had an actual table, but this one's kitchen was laid out a bit differently. Cabinetry covered the walls, floor to ceiling, with a break for a counter all the way around the room. The breakfast bar was on the side of the island facing the doorway, a large window behind it. He'd hung black synthetic curtains to block the light out. Her sigh was audible, a slight whimper breaking through. The curious smirk fell from his lips, but he still didn't move. Her shuffling continued, drawing closer to the kitchen. Finally, she paused in the doorway.

            "You handled the steps already?" he asked, slightly bemused, but not looking up from the documents in front of him. She murmured something he didn't catch, but he let it slide. He looked up at her finally, watching her eye the refrigerator door, seeming to contemplate whether or not she could pull it open without hurting herself. "You're hungry?" She glanced over at him, nodding. He smiled, a warm, genuinely sympathetic smile, and stood. "Sit down. I'll fix you something."

            "I can fix myself something," she said quietly. He stifled a chuckle.

            "You can't open the refrigerator door, Kody. How the fuck are you going to fix yourself something?" She glared at him, and his smile faded. "Seriously. Just sit down." She complied grudgingly, and he leaned his elbows on the back of the chair next to her, just watching her avoid his eyes. "Will you just let me take care of you until you can take care of yourself again?" he asked gently.

            "I _can_ take care of myself," she protested weakly. He sighed, turning to the refrigerator.

            "Special requests?" He turned back to her with the question, not venturing to ask what the wince was for.

            "No meat," she requested quietly. His eyebrow rose.

            "You're a vegetarian." He meant it to sound like a question, but it came out more like a challenge. She only nodded.

            "Coffee, too, please," she added.

            "So you don't eat meat," he repeated.

            "No, I don't eat meat," she returned. "Is that such a big fucking deal you can't just let it go?"

            "I just didn't expect that," he said quickly. "I never would have pegged you for a vegetarian."

            "Why?" He shrugged. "See, growing up as poor as I did, and then losing my providers so early in life, I couldn't ever afford meat, so I never got used to it. Never had the enzymes for it."

            "I thought everyone had the enzymes for it," Riddick pondered, half to himself. "I mean, if humans are omnivores, which we are, we've got to have the enzymes for it, right?"

            "Your body stops making them if you go without it long enough," she said with a shrug, taking the cup of coffee he'd offered her.

            "Want anything in it?" She shook her head no, taking a sip of the steaming liquid, closing her eyes as it burned its way down. "Strong enough for you?" She nodded.

            "Perfect."

            "Good," he said, turning back to find her something meatless to eat. "So I take it you're feeling better."

            "Not really," she said slowly. "I was just sick of looking at the same scenery and never really moving." She rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand. "And I was hungry." He chuckled. "Very hungry," she corrected.

            "You don't want to eat too much," Riddick said quietly. "You haven't had solid food in a while." She snorted, then held her side. He noticed, but didn't say anything. She dug in greedily as he set a bowl of vegetable and noodle soup in front of her, and thank god it had more chunks than broth. "Easy," he warned. She ate in silence, ignoring his gaze on her, and finished the soup quickly, leaving the bowl so clean one would have thought Riddick had just pulled it out of the dishwasher and set it on the table with a spoon in it for decoration. She grinned, leaning back in the chair with a contented, albeit pained, sigh.

            "Now will you go back to bed and take it easy for a while?" he asked slowly. She glowered at him.

            "Do I have to go back to the med bay?"

            "That reminds me," he started. She'd known this was coming. "How'd you get the sensors off without setting off the alarm?"

            "It's called a plug, Riddick," she said flatly.

            "Great." Her eyebrow rose. "Have to reprogram the damn thing."

            "Serves you right," she quipped. "Did you really think I was going to fall asleep and not wake up, or have a heart attack in the middle of the night?" He shrugged. "Why the fuck did you use it anyway? Just couldn't resist breaking in a new toy?"

            "Something like that," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess you could pick out a room and settle in."

            "How many do you have?" she asked with a quiet snicker.

            "Too many," he answered, rolling his eyes. "It was all Tim could scrounge up at the last minute."

            "Tim," she said quietly, her face betraying her overworking mind. "Shit. You have to warn him."

            "About what?" Riddick asked, eyebrow perched in a high arch.

            "He has to leave Castia before they go looking for you. If they find out he was seen with me, he's in big trouble."

            "Don't worry about it." Kody started to protest, but Riddick cut her off. "Seriously. Tim's a big boy. He can handle himself."

            "I can't help you save him," she said quickly, before he could interject again.

            "Listen," Riddick started with a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes. "Tim only stopped on Castia long enough to let me take over the ship for him, and he got the hell out of there that night."

            "Are you sure?"

            "Yes, Kody." He sounded exasperated, and she wasn't sure why. "Just let me take care of shit and you concentrate on getting better."

            "Yeah, yeah," she moaned, shifting in her chair. He watched, the expression on his face telling her he wanted to ask something, so she pressed. "Look, Riddick. I know you're just dying to say something, so fucking spit it out already." He grinned.

            "I was just thinking that I should have let you stitch yourself up." Her eyebrow rose. "You know, Twosy was right. You shoulda worked for Doc." Kody's eyes fell at the mention of that name, and Riddick apologized gruffly, but she waved him off.

            "Nothing either of us could have done," she said quietly.

            "You really think it was Daisy?" She shrugged.

            "No telling," she uttered with a sigh. "Is he capable of it? Naturally. Do I really think he'd stoop that low just to get to me? I don't know."

            "Does it matter now?" Riddick asked, adding his own question to the pile.  She paused, licking her lips and feeling out the stitches in her lip.

            "Let's hope not." He nodded, focusing on his coffee instead of her. Yeah, he was definitely glad now that Tim had insisted on getting her out instead of him. There was no telling if either of them would have gotten out alive with what he now wanted to do to the people that had beat her up so badly. But she seemed to be taking it well.

            "Riddick, just quit babying me, god damn it." Kody sighed, exhausted from feebly fighting Riddick off. He was busy tucking her in, checking in on her, bringing her water or snacks, adjusting her pillows, changing her dressings, checking her stitches… _God he's annoying._ He paused mid-motion, finger poised over the room's temperature control. "Jesus. What the fuck got into you?" His eyebrow rose. "You're hovering."

            "I am?"

            "Yes!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up into the air. "Christ, Riddick, just fucking leave me alone." She instantly regretted saying that, the hurt look on his face punching her in the stomach. He shoved his hands into his pockets and glared down at his toes, wiggling them in his socks. "You're driving me nuts fussing over me," she said quietly. "I'm fine, really." His eyes met hers, and she tried to smile. "If I need something, I'll let you know, okay?" He nodded, glancing at the door for a moment before moving toward it. She sighed. "I didn't mean you had to leave."

            "Well, what do you want me to do then?" he snapped. Her brow twitched, and he mentally kicked himself.

            "Just talk to me." He stood there for a moment, as though pondering whether or not he would listen. She gestured to a nearby chair. "Pull it up and talk to me," she repeated. Her eyes followed him as he complied, and she smiled weakly at him, watching him watch his fingers. "You're not talking," she finally said, watching his lips twitch in a quick smile.

            "What do you want me to say?"

            "I don't know," she whined. "Tell me a story."

            "You're a little old for bedtime stories, aren't you?" She heard the playfulness in his voice and smiled, this time wide and genuine.

            "Indulge me."

            "Well," he started, pausing to think.

            "Tell me about T2," she requested quietly. His eyes darted up to hers and held them for a moment before he leaned back in his chair and covered them with a hand, rubbing back and forth slowly.

            "You don't want to hear about T2," he said quietly, his voice tight.

            "Yes I do," she pressed. He sighed heavily.

            "I was on Guardia for about a week, laying low for a while," he said slowly. "Saw a kid in an alley getting beat up and stepped in. Didn't know Johns had tracked me down and was watching, and he capitalized on the opportunity." Her eyebrow rose, not in surprise at the content of his statement, but how he'd worded it. She'd decided he took the easiest route in choosing his wording. "Pistol whipped me and then hit me with the fucking taser. Knocked my punk ass out." She grimaced. "Next thing I knew, I was back in a holding cell, blindfolded, tied up, with a bit in my mouth."

            "A bit?" she asked incredulously.

            "Yeah, a horse bit." He sighed, clenching his jaw as though just speaking of it brought back sensations that it was there again. "Anyway, I could tell I was in a cargo hold or something. Hooked up to the juice, but it never worked." She smiled at his nonchalant shrug, as though cryo not having an effect on him was the most natural thing in the world. "Wound up in a lockout protocol tube on the Hunter-Gratzner with probably forty other people. Twenty-two weeks out, comet swiped us. Knocked us out of the shipping lanes, and straight into hell." She was listening intently, taking in every muscle that twitched, every slight expression on his face, every fluctuation in the tone of his voice. "Crashed hard. Luckily for me, Johns was knocked out cold, and the impact cracked the tube I was in, so I busted out." She smiled. "Unluckily for me, he noticed, and I ended up hog tied and blindfolded again. Bit back in." He sighed, closing his eyes as though he could return to the moment somehow. "Another opportunity presented itself, and I was out again. This time, though, I could get far enough away to sit back and watch again.

            "The survivors naturally went looking for water, and, as my luck usually runs, they figured it was in my direction, so I had to find some creative places to hide," he continued. "I tracked different people, started noticing things. Zeke, this New Australian guy. Cocky mother fucker. Never found out where he was going, but he didn't  get there. Digging graves for the ones not fortunate enough to make it. Shit hit the fan. He let the natives know we were poking around, and one got to him."

            "They blamed it on you," she guessed. He nodded.

            "Shiv was clean and so was I, but I was the god damn killer, so it had to be my doing." He heaved another weighty sigh and continued. "Carolyn, the docking pilot. She'd planned on blowing the passenger cabin during the landing. Couldn't get the bitch's nose down and thought she needed to drop more weight." He smirked. "Lucky us. Crewmate stopped her. Anyway, she just had to go looking for Zeke's body and ended up finding a lair of the damn things. Convinced Johns it wasn't me, and he made me an offer. No bit, no blades, no backtalk and he'd let me walk."

            "Let you walk," Kody said slowly, sounding unsure.

            "I knew the fucker was lying through his teeth. Johns was to fucking greedy to let a bounty as big as mine go. But I played along. Figured if I followed the rules while he was looking, I'd kill him when it was convenient and make good on his deal for him." He rubbed a hand over his head. _Need to shave_. "Anyway, shit started adding up. I was the only one prudent enough to start putting things together, and by the time they figured out they were in trouble, I knew what was going to happen. Hell, I even had a good idea of when. I'd heard of the transports going missing, never to be heard from again. Johns didn't believe me until the eclipse."

            "Convenient to have you around then," she said.

            "Well, yes and no. I was planning on leaving them all there so I could take the skiff and get the fuck on with my life," he said with a shrug. "I don't know what happened, though," he added, still mystified. "The kid started getting to me, and Carolyn started getting to me." He shook his head, rubbed his eyes again. "Johns wanted to kill the kid and use… the body for bait. Keep the things off our asses so we could get out. A fight ensued, and he lost."

            "You?"

            "Sorta. See, the things – whatever the fuck they were – had a nose for blood. Slashed his back open, and he was too much of a pussy to take it and move on, so they got him. That was the first time I saved her," he added quietly. _Oh,_ she thought, _the kid was Jack_. "Anyway, we kept moving, heading back to the skiff." The confused expression on her face interrupted his train of thought. "Oh, yeah, the skiff was out of power, so we had to use the power cells from the crash ship. We were in the process of taking them from the crash back to where the skiff was when the eclipse decided to have its turn." She nodded, her lips forming a silent 'oh'. "Started raining when we were almost there, and by that time, the only light we had to keep the fuckers away from us – they were photosensitive, by the way; light burned them – the only light we had to keep them away was little lanterns made out of liquor bottles." She nodded. "So, conveniently enough, there just happened to be a cave nearby, and I locked them up inside. By then it was just me, Carolyn, Imam, and… the kid." She grimaced. _Jack_, she thought, correcting him mentally. I was about ready to take off, and Carolyn showed up. They found these little glow worm thingies, and stuffed the bottles with them. A fight ensued – half assed on my part." Her eyebrow rose. "I don't fight women," he added quietly. She thought about protesting, since they'd gotten into a tussle a few times, but thought better of it, wanting to hear the rest of the story. "So she convinced me to go back for the other two and, on the way back, she bit it." He stopped suddenly, shaking his head and licking his lips. She waited, willing him to continue. "I'd never been hurt before." His eyes avoided hers, but she kept watching him anyway – his jaw tightening, forehead scrunched, brows drawn down. "Never felt like I'd lost something when someone else died. I mean, it's not like I knew her, but she took a chance on me. She convinced Johns I was safe enough to let wander around without having him hawk over me all the time."

            "She saw you as a fellow human and not an animal," Kody added. He nodded slightly.

            "So back to the skiff, and we took off. The end." He sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. She noticed his leg was shaking slightly – like when you have pressure on just the right point of your foot to make the rest of your leg jump in rapid succession.

            "Go on," she pushed.

            "That's it," he said quizzically.

            "Well, you had to get picked up or something. If you'd been knocked that far out of the lanes, you would have been too far out for the skiff's life support system to keep everyone alive."

            "We weren't that far out of the lanes though. Three days after we left T2, we were back in the lanes and I shut down everything but life support and autopilot. Saved energy."

            "But the life support…" she insisted.

            "Fine, fine," he sighed. "We hooked up with a shipping transport. They picked us up and watched us closely until they found a place to drop us off."

            "So they knew who you were."

            "They had an idea, yeah. But with a mystery alias with no records – and I mean none – they didn't have the grounds to do much except restrict our access to our rooms and the mess hall," he explained with a shrug. "They didn't have access to the biometrics database, so they couldn't check my fingerprints or anything. Just had to take our word and do as much as they could to protect themselves."

            "And all of this changed you," she said slowly. He didn't answer. "Riddick?"

            "Hmm?"

            "Will you tell me about Jack?"

            "Some other time, Kody," he said quietly. She nodded. _Fair enough._ They both fell silent for a while – Kody trying to imagine the events, and Riddick trying to forget them.

            "Do you feel guilty?" she asked suddenly. Their eyes met for an instant, but he looked away.

            "For what?"

            "Anything," she said noncommittally.

            "Yeah, I do." She nodded. "Not so much for the people I killed myself, but for the people that got killed because of me." Her eyebrow rose, and he cracked a slight smile. "That didn't seem like much of a distinction, huh?" She smiled.

            "I know what you mean," she said. "You don't feel as guilty about killing people as you do about the people who died because of their, um, contact with you."

            "Yeah, I guess." He took a breath and paused. "No, actually. Not because of their contact with me." She waited, and it took him a while to continue. "There have been few people I've given into the compulsion to protect."

            "You didn't fail them, Riddick," she said gently. He sighed.

            "Yeah, I did."

            "You couldn't have saved Carolyn, no more than you could have saved the people that died because of the crash itself." His jaw tightened. "And no matter what you think, and how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, you couldn't have saved Jack." His eyes closed. He knew that's where this was going, but he'd hoped she wouldn't bring it up. So much for hoping.

            "I could have listened to her," he admitted quietly, suddenly taken with a scratch in the flooring.

            "And it would have happened eventually anyway."

            "Which is exactly why I should never have went back in the first place," he said quietly. "But I just had to go back and force her back into the mud with me."

            "Riddick…"

            "I got her out of it at one point." Kody shut her mouth, crossing her fingers that it was now the some other time Riddick had referred to when dodging her request to tell her about Jack. "She just looked up to me so much. Fucking shaved her head and everything. No one ever looked up to me before. And she wouldn't have stayed with Imam anyway. I didn't want her back on the streets to get fucked up again anyway, so I let her tag along with me. And then I realized she could have a better life with Imam or on her own than she could with me, so I sent her back." He smiled slightly. "Well, I sent her on vacation, and then I sent Imam to pick her up." He shook his head. "But that story's for a different day," he finished, somewhat sadly. He knew she'd hold him to the 'some other time' promise. She nodded slowly, and he stood.

            "Riddick." He paused in the doorway, not turning, so she continued. "You haven't failed me."

            "Yet."


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Kody rolled her eyes and sighed. _The bigger they are, the harder they brood,_ she thought with a twinge. _Hell, when did **I** get so god damn emotional? _She frowned, a pensive expression taking over as she pondered. _Usually I'd just tell him to suck it up and be a man, but… shit, I actually feel kinda sorry for him. _She thought back to the day Jack had latched onto her…

"Hey." Kody's eyes sprang open, and she leapt from the chair, unaware she'd dozed off. A short, skinny, green-eyed kid was tugging on the tail of her sleeve.

"Get the fuck away from me," she snapped, stooping to snatch her bag and toss it over her shoulder. The kid obviously didn't listen, from the slaps of the soles of her shoes following closely behind. Kody stopped suddenly, trying to bite back the chuckle as the kid rammed right into her back, nearly keeling over backwards at the impact. "I thought I told you to leave me the fuck alone."

"I just wanted to ask you if you knew where a motel was around here," the kid said sheepishly. "I don't have a lot of money, and, uh, I don't really know where to go." Kody sighed, scrunching her eyes shut tightly. _Do not take in strays, _she told herself. Her cold, blue eyes opened again, the anger replaced.

"I don't know. Sorry, kid," she snapped, whirling back around to resume her steps.

"Well, fuck you, then." Kody's foot hovered above the spot it was about to take as she froze.

"What did you say to me?" she growled, turning slowly. The kid didn't back down.

"I said, 'fuck you, then'," the kid repeated, eyes equally as angry. Kody didn't try to hide the smirk.

"You're not really my type." The kid's eyebrow rose. "Jailbait and all," Kody added with a shrug.

"Not really observant, are you?" the kid spat at her. Kody glared, looking the kid over again. Something wasn't right. "Look, I just got sent to this place by the guy that I was staying with. Didn't see it coming, and didn't have time to prepare. I just grabbed my shit and left, so I don't have a fucking plan yet, and I'm tired." Kody took another long stare. _Convincing guy to a passing glance,_ she thought, slightly impressed.

"I don't take in strays," she said quietly. "Liability and all." Unintentionally, Kody looked around their surroundings, looking for anyone watching or listening. Habit, really. But the kid's eyes lit up.

"So you're running then." Kody didn't answer, but the look on her face told all. "I'm Jack."

"Really," Kody snorted.

"Yeah, really." Jack shoved her hands in her pockets, shrugging her shoulders to shift the backpack resting there. "I just need a little help." Kody sighed. "Just one night."

"You really don't want to associate yourself with me," Kody warned.

"I've done worse and made it through." The kid's tone held an air of truth, and it intrigued the tall, slender killer standing before her. Hell, if she'd gone to the lengths of pretending to be a boy, maybe she wasn't as much of a liability as Kody thought.

"Prove it." The girl's eyes fell.

"I can't right now."

"Why not?"

"If you're running from trouble, it's a name you don't want spoken in public," Jack said quietly, trying to make sure no one else heard. "'Specially if it's mercs." Kody's eyes narrowed, but the girl just stood there. With an exasperated growl, she turned and left the bar, heading to the motel she'd scouted earlier. The girl followed, and she knew it, but she didn't try to make the kid go away. Somehow, she knew she'd end up letting her stay for the night, no matter how hard she rationalized shutting her out. Jack stood down the hall, just a couple of doors away, as Kody slid her keycard into the slot on the door.

"One night, kid, and don't fucking test my patience," she said quietly. The girl nodded and walked through the open door, watching as Kody closed it behind them.

"Which bed do you want?" Jack asked quietly.

"A bed's a fucking bed," Kody said with a shrug. _Hell, she said 'fuck', so why should I try to be polite? _"So who's this worse than me person anyway?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Jack responded, digging through her backpack for a bottle of water. "So let's not waste breath here." Kody shrugged. "My real names Jacqueline. Figured since everyone called me Jackie back home, I wouldn't have trouble remembering to turn around when someone said 'Jack'."

"Smart," Kody said, watching the girl's bag for any insight. "Who's the guy that dropped you?"

"I already told you you wouldn't believe me."

"So you were living with someone more dangerous than me, which, by the way, has yet to be confirmed, and managed to live through it long enough for him to decide he didn't want you around anymore and send you away?" Kody asked sharply. Jack's eyes grew angry.

"He didn't drop me," Jack spit. "He sent me away because he wanted a better life for me. He wanted to protect me."

"From what?" Kody asked, slightly amused at the girl's defiance.

"Everyone chasing him."

"And you're not going to tell me." Jack only shook her head.

"As long as no one knows, I'm safe and he doesn't have to worry about someone getting to him through me," she explained quietly. Kody fell silent, not sure whether this girl was in denial or actually understood the situation. "So who are you?" Kody's eyebrow rose. "I told you my name, and divulged more information than I probably should have, if I wasn't so god damn desperate for a place to stay." Kody sighed.

"I'd rather not tell you my name for the same reasons you won't tell me his." Jack nodded, seeming to understand. "Look, just so you know, I'll be gone before you wake up. Why don't you call up for some food." Jack's eyebrows rose. "I'm gonna shower."

_Jesus Christ, I'm a fucking softie, _Kody thought, twisting the handle on the faucet, testing its warmth. _Not hot, but not cold, either. It'll do. I mean, God, this kid's barely fifteen and already has secrets for what seems to be a damn good reason. _She thought for a moment. _Okay, who got out recently. She mentioned mercs. Someone with a nice bounty. Couldn't be Farcy Mays. Fucking pedophile. She seems too attached to this guy. Um… Marty Pegs? Nah. Too heartless. Riddick? Hell, he's probably the coldest mother fucker ever. Didn't I hear somewhere that he drank blood and killed just for the sheer pleasure and excitement? _She couldn't help but smile. _Then again, people say the same about me. _She undressed, dropping her dingy clothes into a heap on the floor. A contented sigh moved the steam in swirls as she stepped under the water, which had finally gotten hot enough to satisfy. _I don't know. Everything I've heard has been that he works solo and for himself. No one else. Hell, I don't know who the fuck it is. Might just be some asshole trying to impress. Some no-name that thinks he's all badass. Shit. Who fucking cares?_ She heard the holovid on when she turned the water off, quickly toweling dry to see if the kid was watching the news, and, if she was, if anything was said about her. She wrapped the towel around herself, pulled her hair back into a long, braided pony tail, and went back out into the main room, smirking at young Jack, totally taken with the television. She blushed slightly under Kody's gaze, and shrugged.

"We didn't have a television," she said quietly.

"I prefer the news feeds myself," Kody responded. "They usually have more information." Jack just nodded, and Kody continued to watch. "Why don't you take a shower, kid." Jack's eyes met hers. "Relax a little, get some sleep. You look like shit." The girl grinned, nodding slightly.

"Food should be here in a minute," she said as she stood, heading into the bathroom.

"What'd you get?"

"Cheese pizza," Jack answered. "It was the cheapest thing on the menu."

"I got it, kid. Don't worry about it," Kody said quietly. Jack smiled, seemingly embarrassed at not having much money. She didn't say she was completely broke, but if she ordered based on price, she had to be getting tight on fundage. Kody snickered. She kinda missed those days.

The pizza had come, and they'd both eaten greedily, as though it would be their last meal for years. They just watched the holovid, flipping between channels, until a news broadcast caught Kody's attention.

"Wait. Stop there," she commanded quickly.

"You're on the news," Jack said quietly. Kody only nodded slowly, mesmerized. Naturally everything that was said was false or embellished to a great degree, and once the segment was over, Kody snorted. "Nice to meet you Dakota," Jack offered.

"Call me Kody, and once I'm gone, you never knew me, understand?"

"More than you know," she agreed quietly. Kody's eyebrow rose, but Jack didn't offer any more. _Shit. Might have been a big fish after all. _

"Did he teach you not to believe anything you hear that comes from Company?" Jack nodded. "And you do know that Company censors every news broadcast in their jurisdiction, right?" Another small nod. _Damn, had to be a big fish. Usually people don't think of shit like that unless it's serious. _"Did he teach you to defend yourself?" Jack grinned, reaching into the backpack she'd laid at her side. Kody just grinned as Jack revealed what looked like a hand made prison shiv. "Score." Jack replaced the weapon and yawned. "Get to sleep, kid. You've got the room until three tomorrow afternoon. Unless you want to pay for another night, you gotta be checked out by then."

"Yeah, I know," Jack said sheepishly. "Been in a lot of hotels recently."

"You got enough money to get somewhere you can start over?" Kody asked gently.

"Yeah." Kody's eyebrow rose. "But I'm a damn good pickpocket if I have to resort back to that." Kody nodded and adjusted the pillows behind her head. Her bag was packed and laid next to the door, just in case something happened. She had alternate plans, just in case, as well. She drifted off into a light slumber, and when the sun threatened to peek over the hills, she woke and left silently, pausing to glance back at Jack. Just as she was about to shut the door behind her, the girl's quiet whisper gave her a reason to pause: "Riddick?" She winced. _That had to hurt._ She shook her head and closed the door quietly, waiting until she heard the click and beep of the lock, then went down the hall, taking the back stairs to the main desk.

"I'm going to go ahead and pay. My sister's still sleeping, but she'll be checked out before three." The man's eyebrows rose. "I've got some business in town this morning, and didn't want to make her wake up so early," she lied through a winning smile. "She's going to meet me for lunch later on, after she checks out." The man nodded, and processed the room. Kody remembered to thank him, and left, praying Jack didn't get caught in the crossfire.

Kody woke with a start, surprised she'd fallen back to sleep and kept the memory going. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. _Well, might as well get up and pee,_ she thought with a sigh. With a stifled groan, she stood and shuffled out the door, trying to remember where she'd seen a bathroom.

After handling business, she returned to the kitchen, thankful Riddick had left the pot of coffee on. She poured herself a cup and sat at the table, staring into nothingness as she thought. _He's obviously still not over her. Hell, I don't know if he ever will be. But he's got to move on eventually or he's going to tear himself apart in the long run. And Riddick going insane – for him, compared to his usual self – would not be a good thing. _

"You're up again." She smiled, still staring off into space, hearing him pour himself another cup and sit next to her. "And you're off in la-la land from the looks of it." He waved his hand in front of her face, smiling as she blinked a few times in surprise before turning her eyes on him. "You okay?"

"Mm-hmm," she said quietly, nodding slowly. His eyebrow rose. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"You probably don't want to know," she said gently, hoping he'd drop it. He nodded, focusing on the steam rising from his mug. "You know, this ship is big enough, if you wanted to work out a schedule for who gets the kitchen and bathroom, that's fine with me." His eyebrows furled, and he glanced up at her quickly. "I can go on my way as soon as you need me to," she added quietly. "I don't want to be an imposition."

"I like the company," he insisted, raising his mug to his lips. She watched, entranced. _Those lips…_ _Good god, stop thinking about it, Dakota. Get a fucking grip!_ She forced herself to look away, and he did the same. The air was charged with electricity, both feeling it and wondering if it was just them.

"I missed you," she said quietly. He didn't say anything. "I couldn't stay though. Not after the thing with Chris. Had to make it obvious I went about my business on my own so he wouldn't go after you, too."

"You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did," she insisted. His eyebrows rose. "It's one thing for you to work out a plan to save me, but I don't think I could pull off saving you." He smirked, but it didn't last. "Did I ever thank you?"

"Now you have," he said quietly. She smiled up at him. "Were you, um…" He stopped, and she could see the wheels spinning as he tried to think of something to say, or how to phrase it – she wasn't sure which. "If Tim hadn't shown up at the bar, would you have, uh…"

"Does it matter?" she dodged.

"Not really, but I'd like to know."

"Why?"

"Because then I'd know what my next question would be," he said, a hint of a smile breaking into his voice. She fought the smile.

"What if I said no?"

"I'd ask if you were planning on coming back or just going solo for the rest of your life," he said quietly.

"And if I said yes?"

"I'd ask what he had that I couldn't give you." She looked over at him, taken aback, but he was just staring at his hands cupping both sides of the mug, running a thumb back and forth over the lip.

"I don't know if I would have come back," she answered after gathering her wits.

"So you weren't planning on running off with him." She wasn't sure if it was a challenge or a question, so she didn't answer. "Kody?"

"Are you asking or assuming?" she asked quietly.

"Both." Her eyebrow rose. "I'm assuming and asking for confirmation." A small smile.

"Things didn't play out that way, so it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," he pressed.

"It shouldn't," she sighed, scratching an eyebrow with her thumb. She felt him staring at her, but didn't indulge him.

"But it does."

"Look, Riddick, all that matters is that I'm here right now, and I'm grateful for that. Hell, I don't think about what could have happened to me if you and Tim hadn't gotten me out because it doesn't matter now. You did. All that matters is what's happening right now," she said.

"Look at me." The tone in his voice made her think twice about disobeying, so she complied. "What does he have that I couldn't give to you?"

"Safety," she said quietly, still holding his gaze. His eyebrow rose, head cocked to the side.

"From what?"

"Emotion," she said, averting his eyes. "I could never fall for him."

"So you'd run off with him just because you'd never fall for him," he repeated. She nodded slowly, seeming distant and detached. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She didn't answer. "How the fuck will that keep you safer than being with me?"

"Because I wouldn't have to worry about whether or not I'd look out for number one." His eyebrows rose, the wind suddenly taken from his sails. "I wouldn't have to think about whether I'd risk myself for someone I loved or keep myself alive."

"And now?"

"I don't know," she whispered, staring off into space again. He felt like someone had just dropped him into a jar of molasses.

"Kody?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you scared of me?" he asked after a beat.

"Yes," she said quickly. His eyes closed.

"Why?"

"A lot of reasons," she said with a dismissive shrug, blinking out of her trance to take a sip of coffee.

"Such as?"

"Shit, Riddick, you really think you want the blow-by-blow? I sure as hell don't think you do."

"Humor me."

"Riddick…"

"I'll worry about the kickback later, just fucking tell me," he insisted, his voice suddenly edgy.

"Because I've seen you kill, and I've seen you walk away from a kill you could have taken easily, and for what reasons I'll never know." His eyebrow rose. _What the fuck is she talking about?_ "Because you've survived things that no one else could ever survive even with God sitting on their shoulder. Because you're full blooded Furian, and I'm only half, and I know what _I'm_ capable of." His eyebrows rose. _I'm Furian? How the hell does she know that?"_

"How do you know I'm –"

"Because I could fall for you and really have to think about what I'd do if the shit hit the fan and I had to make a quick decision. Because if I chose to protect myself I don't know if I could live with myself for letting you die, but if I chose to protect you I don't know if I would survive and how you would react to that. Because you're everything I've ever wanted to be and I don't know if I can live up to that." She was talking at full speed now, the reasons she was afraid of him spewing forth rapidly, no holding back. "Because I don't know if you could ever love me and I don't know if I could take the chance on loving you if it wasn't returned. Because I don't know if you expect me to be Jack and I know I'm not." His eyes closed, head dropping into his hands. _Shoulda known better than to ask,_ he chided himself. "Because I've never loved anyone other than myself before – truly loved someone – and… and… why the fuck did you have to ask me that?" She turned her gaze on him suddenly, her eyes enraged and terrified all at once. He lifted his head slowly, eyes equally as torn, and heaved a sigh.

"I don't have any answers for you, Kody," he said quietly, leaning back in his chair. "But I can tell you I know exactly how you feel." She sighed. "I felt the same way about Jack, and…" he paused, watching her eyes close. "Yeah, why the fuck did I ask you that?" Nervous chuckles broke the tension. She blew at a curl hanging in her eyes, and he watched as it bounced off the top of her head and back into the same place. She quickly tucked it behind her ear.

"Tell me something," she said quietly. He nodded. "Do you believe in soulmates?"

"No," he said quickly. He'd thought about it before, and he truly didn't believe in soulmates.

"What do you believe in?'

"As far as…?"

"Anything. Generically," she said with a shrug. _Good,_ he thought, _conversation is heading in a much more safe direction. _

"Survival."

"Well, duh," she snickered, prompting a smile.

"Uh, well, shit, I don't know," he sighed. "Evolution." She smiled.

"Fate?"

"I don't know, really," he murmered, scratching his chin meditatively. "Hadn't really thought about it. I think things happen because of decisions we make, like a big chain, but I think you can be a catalyst in your own life as well."

"So you don't blame your foster parents for the way you turned out?" she asked playfully. His eyebrow rose.

"How did you know I had foster parents?" She opened her mouth and took a breath, but he interrupted. "And how did you know I'm Furian? Hell, _I_ didn't even know that."

"Well, the Furian thing is educated speculation, based on the files I hacked into while on my little vacation. Had to do some digging around anyway, and I got bored with Anders, so I moved on to more interesting subject matter."

"Really," he pressed. "What else did you find out?"

"All the lies Company made up to make you look bad." He snickered.

"Hate that," he chuckled. She nodded knowingly.

"They, uh…" she trailed off and paused, glancing at him nervously. "Hell, I probably shouldn't tell you this, but…"

"I killed Jack, right?" Her nod prompted a grimace. "Figures," he spat, shaking his head.

"Yeah, hacked into my own files, which are full of bullshit as well," she said, lifting her coffee to her lips.

"Like what?"

"Like I killed my parents." His eyebrow rose.

"Did you?" She shook her head. "That's right. You said back in slam that you'd found them and never bothered to figure out who did it." The quick flash of guilt in her eyes piqued his interest. "Did you hack into that, too?" he asked quietly.

"I knew all along." His brows furrowed.

"So you lied to me."

"Hey, it was your first day in there. I had to test the waters before I could tell you too much," she said defensively.

"So what else did you lie about?"

"Nothing. I just didn't want to get into the gruesome details right then, so I dodged it." He grunted, but didn't press the issue.

"So who did it?" She was quiet, chewing on her bottom lip. "Okay… are you sure or do you just have a suspect?"

"No, I know," she insisted.

"Without a shadow of a doubt." She nodded. "How?"

"I was there." His stomach dropped.

"Shit," he breathed. She nodded. "How'd you get out of it?"

"I was in the attic, hiding from my dad." She was staring off into space again, eyes clouded over, just the way they'd been when she first told him the brief version of her background in prison. "He'd come home drunk, beat my mom, and when he'd had enough of her, he'd lay into me." Riddick grimaced. "I took it, unless I could hide before he got home, if I was even there. Most times we'd know if he'd been out drinking. He'd come home late, or I'd hear him screaming from downstairs and have enough time to get up into the attic before he'd see me. He just assumed I was out." She shook her head, and he noticed her lip quiver slightly. "Mom hated me."

"What do you mean?"

"She'd always hated me. I don't know if it was just a Furian thing or what, but from the day I was born, she cursed my existence. Never laid a hand on me, but she let me know how unwanted I was." She sighed, scratching the back of her neck. "Their deaths were a way out for me. Wasn't easy, being on my own and all. I told you about that. But it was better just knowing that my mom wasn't a live to hate me and my dad wasn't alive to beat the shit out of me. I guess I owe you another thank you," she said quietly. His eyebrow rose.

"For what?" Her pause made him nervous.

"Giving me that way out." His breathing stopped.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked slowly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"I was in the attic, looking down through a crack in the tiling. Dad was screaming at Mom. She would have died that night anyway. He'd gotten a hold of a lamp cord and started strangling her with it." Riddick's eyes closed, fingers rubbing his forehead. "Guy walked in the door Dad left open when he barged into the house. Neither of them saw him. Well, not until Dad had his throat sliced. Mom couldn't move. He turned to go, but she said something that really pissed him off, and he killed her too."

"'I've got a daughter in the attic you can take care of too'," Riddick whispered, just as she said the same thing. He winced painfully, hoping this was just a joke – that she'd read it somewhere in a file or news feed.

"So he killed her, too. Jabbed his knife in the side of her neck and looked into her eyes while she died." That was a detail that wouldn't have appeared anywhere, and it was all the confirmation he needed. "I wanted to run down and hug him, but I was too fucking scared," she continued with a slight laugh. "Wouldn't have been a good idea, because he just kept on. Gave me a good lesson on how to mutilate with style, so that's another thank you." He shook his head, wishing he'd wake up and be back in slam or on T2 again. "I couldn't stop watching, but I couldn't go down there because I was too scared you'd just kill me too." Her voice cracked. "But thanks," she said quietly. He forced himself to look up, and she was staring down at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. She nodded slowly, as though it would make him really believe she was thanking him.

"I'm sorry," he choked.

"Don't be," she said with a small laugh, which sounded like a cross between a laugh, a snort, and a sob.

"Kody—"

"I'm uh," she interrupted quickly, standing, "going to go back to bed now. Tired again already," she added with a shrug and a small smile. He stood as well, watching her walk past him.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

He stood there for a while, in exactly the same spot, not really sure what to make of this revelation. Yes, he remembered that kill well. It was one of the few that were spur of the moment, absolutely no planning. He'd just been taking one of his usual midnight strolls before he gained his infamy. Saw the guy strangling the woman through the door someone had left open, and felt the rage take over. It was an inward struggle for a moment. He wasn't sure whether or not he really wanted to get involved. Until that point, all of his kills had been contracted, and he'd checked them out to make sure they deserved to die. That was one thing Company made up that he knew she'd read in his file and not believed. He was a justified killer. Maybe he took justice into his own hands at the request and payment of another, but it was justice all the same. And it was one of the few times he'd killed a woman.

He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he felt a headache coming on. _Fuck_. Plain and simple. _Was she serious about the thank you or just trying to make me not feel guilty? Hell, if she was trying to keep me from feeling guilty it sure as hell didn't work. Double fuck. Fuckity fuck. _He sighed, sitting down again. He'd thought he felt like someone was watching him as he stood there over the bloody bodies, crimson sprayed all over the room, all over him. He'd just chalked it up to paranoia and scolded himself for intervening. And now he wondered what he would have done if she had come down. Knowing how he was right after a kill, he really had to think about it. Adrenalin running, senses heightened, mind focused, animal let loose. Hell, he really didn't know what he would have done. _No sense wondering now. Not like that really changes anything. But it does. Would I have killed her on instinct, just because she was there and I was on a rush? _He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. _No kids. That was my rule. Never kill a kid. And if she was ten, like she said she was, that was kid enough for me. I doubt I would have. _He sighed, now feeling at least a smidge better. He stood again, leaving the kitchen. A quiet sniffle caught his attention, and his stomach lurched again. _Shit. _He crossed the grand room and took the stairs two at a time silently, pausing outside her door. She was trying to keep it quiet, and had he not had such excellent hearing, he probably wouldn't have noticed. He turned the knob on the door and swung it open without a sound.

She was curled in a ball under her covers, looking at the wall opposite the door. Her shoulders would shudder every now and then, and he could hear her shallow breathing. _Probably holding it to keep it quiet.__ Gotta hurt with broken ribs_, he thought with a wince. He continued into the room, his socked feet moving silently across the metal floor. _God damn, life is shitty. _He leaned against the wall at the head of her bed, watching her stiffen as she finally sensed his presence. They both remained quiet, and every time she had to take a breath when she couldn't hold it any longer, it got harder and harder to fight back the loud, snorting sobs. The bed squeaked as it gave under his weight, and she let one loose, partly out of surprise and partly out of exhaustion from fighting so hard. She felt his arm wrap over her side, and then his body scoot across the bed to press against her back, and she leaned into him. She flinched as he lifted his arm, but he only pulled the covers away from her face, and she turned her head further into the pillow, trying to conceal her tears. He shushed her, brushing her hair out of her face before replacing his arm around her, holding her tightly to him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered between gasps. He hushed at her again, planting a soft kiss behind her ear. "I didn't plan on telling you." He shook his head, knowing she would feel it. Another loud sob pierced the air, and she cringed.

"Why weren't you going to tell me?" he asked quietly. Her face crumpled again, and he watched her fight for control.

"I knew it would make you feel guilty," she said once she could. "And that's the last thing I wanted."

"What, to make me feel guilty?" She nodded, letting out another snuffle. "Tell me you really mean the thank you and I won't." She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

"One of them would have killed me if you hadn't killed them," she said, her voice strained from holding back the sobs.

"So why are you crying?"

"Because no matter how I worded things I knew you'd kick yourself," she answered. "And I don't want you to do that because of me," she added, the sobs resurfacing.

"Hey," he whispered, "look at me." She shook her head, hiding her face behind a hand. He stared at her wrist, taking in the scarring lacerations still working on their healing. God, she'd been through hell and back. "Dakota, look at me." Another shake of the head. "Well, then listen to me. I did what I did because I thought I had to. I had this rule. No women, no kids." She let out another sob, not bothering to hold back this time, and he waited for her to collect herself again so she'd listen. "Your dad… well, I thought I was protecting your mom, and then she said what she said and I just fucking snapped. I would never have hurt you." She was trembling now, still hiding behind her fingers as another sob escaped. "And knowing the circumstances now, behind all of it, I don't have one god damn reason to feel guilty about it, unless you can think of something." She snorted, and let out a ragged breath. "In a roundabout way, I guess I protected you." She nodded slowly, and he reached out to run his fingers over hers. She jumped slightly, and he frowned. "I didn't hurt you then, and I'm not gonna hurt you now, okay?" He twined his fingers in hers and pulled on her hand, his stomach twisting at the shape of her face, swollen and reddened, tearstains forming as more followed the previous tears' tracks. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, lids puffy, and plenty of tears were built up for the near future. His thumb ran over her cheek, watching the poised water run over his fingers, brushing them away as they fell. "I'm not going anywhere unless you ask me to," he whispered. Her eyes closed, setting more tears free, and he leaned down to kiss them to a stop.

"But can you love someone when you know you killed her parents?" she asked shakily. He paused, watching her eyes open, her lip quivering again as the silence continued. "Because if you can't, I want you to drop me off at the closest port so I can move on." He smiled slightly.

"Can you love someone when you know he'd kill your parents again in a heartbeat if they even thought about hurting you?" She blinked. "Because if you can't I'm going to drop you off at the closest port so I can move on." She couldn't help but laugh, and he smiled as well.

"Hell, do you even believe in love?" she asked quietly, still chuckling every now and then. His eyebrow rose. "I don't know," she continued with a shrug. "I think I just believe in compatibility and attraction. Fuck that 'wishy washy emotion you can't explain but you just feel it' shit." He grinned. "I think I think that love is just a combination of compatibility and attraction and insanity."

"You think you think?" he asked, his voice slightly amused.

"Yeah, I'm not really sure," she said slowly, looking up at the ceiling as though it had the answer. When she looked back at him, he was staring down at her, his face serious.

"So you're really okay with me, then," he pressed quietly.

"Are you getting overly self conscious on me?" she asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Not really. I just don't want you staying here because you're scared shitless of me for killing your parents," he said quietly.

"Do you want me staying here?"

"Only if you want to be here," he answered.

"You know," she said slowly, "I always thought I'd live my life by myself. Not let anyone in and take the chance I'd get hurt, or weighed down and not be able to make it out if something happened. I never wanted to be with someone – really be with someone a hundred percent." He waited, but she didn't continue.

"And now?" he pressed.

"Now I don't know. I mean, I'm getting old." A smirk worked its way to her face. "Maybe I don't want spend the rest of my life solo." Riddick grinned, recalling the time he said those words to her not too long ago. "I think it might be occurring to me that I might actually enjoy having someone around." He chuckled.

"Smartass."

"Yeah, well," she grinned, "It's one of my more endearing traits."

"Sadly, yes," he snickered.

"And that's why you love me." It was out before she could stop it, and both of them suddenly fell serious again. "Fuck," she mumbled. "Freudian slip." Her eyes closed, and she sighed.

"How are your ribs feeling?" he asked quietly.

"Nice subject change," she commented, forcing a quiet chuckle. "Where the fuck did that come from?" He shifted beside her, and her smile grew. "Oh, that. Right." She sucked in a deep breath, wincing as her side caught. The whimper got out before she could stop it. "Sorry, doll," she ground out, the pain in her side growing. She felt his lips brush against the crook of her jaw.

"You need to rest anyway," he said with a small shrug. "That kind of physical activity requires energy and stamina, neither of which you're quite up to yet."

"Hell, dope me up on some of that codeine in there and I'll be fine," she snickered. He shook his head, laughing into the side of her neck. His teeth closed on her earlobe, and she smiled.

"Nah," he whispered, directly into her ear. "I love you too much to fuck you while you're strung out." Her eyes fluttered open, and he pulled back to look at her, flashing her a charming smile. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a short, gentle kiss before pulling away to lie on his side next to her. She couldn't help but grin as she leaned back against him, his arm returning to its position around her side. She intertwined her fingers with his, placing a kiss on the inside of his wrist. She felt his smile against the back of her neck, and felt goosebumps rise on her skin. "So tell me about this tattoo," he said, planting a kiss on the nose of the dragon posed on the nape of her neck.

"Got it in the military," she said with a shrug. "There was a shop on base that was pretty inexpensive, and talented, so I indulged myself."

"I didn't figure it was prison work," he said quietly.

"Why's that?"  
"Too clean." She smirked. "Most prison tattoos I've seen aren't bad, but nowhere near as smooth as this one. The lines are straight, color's even, far as I can tell." She nodded. Good call on his part. Hell, she'd seen some really shitty prison tattoos that looked like someone let a two year old kid play with the tattoo machine.

"We still have a problem," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"What's that?"

"Anders," she answered quietly. He sighed, ruffling her hair.

"I'll get on the news feeds tomorrow, hook into the hospital records and see what I can find out."

"You don't have to help me, Riddick."

"Fucking with you is fucking with me," he said with a shrug. "I got a beef with him now." She smiled slightly. "We'll work it out. But you're not doing anything until you get that rib fixed, hear me?" She nodded, squeezing his fingers, satisfied when he squeezed back.

"Everyone you've killed, did they all deserve it?" she asked.

"More or less. What about you?"

"Well, that's a complicated question," she said with a sigh.

"How's that?"

"Well, when orders say kill so and so, you do it. Orders is orders. As far as those go, I know not all of them deserved it, but there was nothing I could do." She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Those are the ones I feel guilty about."

"Ironic."

"Huh?"

"Well, the ones you feel guilty about are the ones Company says you had a reason for and didn't question," he explained.

"Yeah, I guess."

"What about the others?" he asked, referring to the kills she'd made that didn't come from orders.

"More or less deserved it," she said. "Some definitely more than others." He let out a monstrous yawn, and she snickered. "Tired?"

"Nope."

"Liar."

"Yep," he said through another yawn. She shook her head, feeling his breathing even and slow, then drifting off herself.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Kody let out a growl and dropped to her knees. Riddick turned at the commotion, eyebrow perched high on his forehead. She glared at him, shaking her head as she lowered her eyes. Her jaws clenched together, one arm holding her side.

"You okay?" His voice was so quiet and gentle it made her jump, and then grow even more angry.

"Fine," she snapped, shifting on her knees to ease the pressure. She leaned back against the cabinet behind her and heaved a sigh, closing her eyes and counting primes until she could regain control. When her eyes opened again, he was crouched in front of her, a concerned expression rising in his eyes. "Don't look at me like that," she whispered. His eyebrows rose quizzically, and she groaned, sliding off her knees and onto her butt, letting her legs flop wherever they happened to land. "Just keep looking for the fucking nanomed syringes, okay?" she growled, eyes glinting. He held his hands up and returned to the cabinets. "Can't fucking believe this," she whispered to herself, shaking her head. Biting back a howl of pain, she shifted and reached for something to grab onto to pull herself back to her feet to resume her own rummaging.

"Got it," he said quietly, a hint of triumph making his voice lilt slightly. She sighed, collapsing back onto a nearby chair, wincing at the jolt the motion sent through her body. "You ever had nano juice before?" She nodded slowly, lifting her arm and watching his fingers close around her wrist. Her head turned, and he shifted positions, wrapping her arm around his middle so his back was to her as he buried the syringe. He stifled a chuckle as her fingers dug into his side as the tiny medically equipped machines were inserted in their slime and into her body to do their work. The syringe was discarded, and he lifted her from the chair.

"I can walk by myself," she forced through gritted teeth.

"You can't even stand on your own," he chided. "You need to rest and let the nanos do their thing." She nodded, finally giving in and letting him carry most of her weight. _Damn, that side hurts,_ she thought with a grimace.

"Why didn't we think of this sooner?" she asked, smiling at the chuckle and shrug he gave her. _There's that fucking 'we' again. Swear to god, it'll be the end of me. _It was the last thing she thought before she passed out, the nanos going to work on some much needed internal repairs.

Her whole body felt tingly, like there was a colony of ants crawling under her skin or something. She whimpered and shifted under the… _covers? How the hell did I get into bed? Last thing I remember is walking down the hallway… Shit. Musta passed out._ With great effort, she pried her eyes open, halfway expecting to see Riddick leaning over her, that hellish look of concern flitting across his face. She was somewhat glad he wasn't in the room, since she really wasn't sure what her limbs would do after the nanos took over and, hopefully for her, expired. It never took them long to do their job, and they did it well, most times. Every now and then you'd hear of a freak accident when the nanos went crazy and made mistakes, ultimately killing their patient, but that was extremely rare. _Cross your fingers,_ she thought with a sardonic grin. _Won't know if you won't try._ She gave a mental shrug and sat up, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips at the absence of pain. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and took a breath, holding it as she stood… and didn't fall. _Thank god._ _Let's see what Riddick's up to._ After a flash of a toothy grin, she darted out of the room and into the hall silently. Tiptoeing, she made her way toward the stairs, taking one and pausing, then another and pausing, then another… until she got to the bottom. _Must sneak up on Riddick…_She grinned again, but it was fleeting, concentration taking over. Silent feet worked their way around the great room, avoiding anywhere easily visible, as she headed toward the lower deck access, sneaking through the door and down the stairs. _Naturally tinkering with something,_ she thought with a mental snicker. He swore as the wrench slipped and he cracked a knuckle on something. She bit back a cackle, working her way behind him after he turned to pick the wrench back up. Just as he was starting to stand up again, she let out a growl and leapt onto his back, instantly finding herself on the ground, giggling, as he pinned her under him. A look of confusion passed over him quickly, making her laugh even harder.

"Feeling better I take it?" he asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice. She only cackled, partly because she couldn't stop and partly to keep him from killing her. Relief washed over her as his laughs joined hers, somewhat timidly at first, until they were both uncontrollable.

"Whew," she breathed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I think maybe the nanos got to my brain or something," she continued between giggles.

"Maybe," he answered with a shrug, his own chuckles subsiding. "But I do know one thing." Her eyebrow rose.

"What's that?"

"You need a shower," he said with an evil smirk. Her smile fell, replaced with a glower, and she shoved him away from her, ignoring the pain in her heels as she stomped up the metal stairs, slamming the door on his chuckle. She let the smile broke one the door was closed and ripped her clothes off, tossing a piece here and there as she headed to the bathroom.

"Oh, that's priceless," she murmured, stepping under the water. She leaned forward and pressed her hands to the wall under the showerhead, dropping her head under the spray between her shoulders, just letting the water beat on the back of her head and run through her hair. She heard his clothes hit the floor but made no indication, instead closing her eyes and losing herself in the feel of the water cascading over her. A hand settled on her hip, then another hand on the other hip, and she stood, leaning back against his chest with a contented sigh. His arms slid around her waist as she lifted her arms to brush wet locks of curls from her face, his hands curling around her back with plenty of room to spare. She'd always been slight in build, and had put back on some of the weight she'd lost during her lockup, and she felt tiny to him now. "Hot water," she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips as she tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder, turning to press her forehead into his cheek. His throat vibrated with his chuckle, and her smile grew. His lips pressed against her temple and her arms lifted over her head to encircle his neck behind her. They stood that way for a while, just holding each other, until she sighed and opened her eyes.

"What?" he asked quietly. Her back vibrated as his voice rumbled in his chest. She just shook her head, dropping her arms to her sides. His hands retracted as well, and she returned to the water, turning to face him as the spray enveloped her. She reached out, hooking her littlest finger around his thumb, and pulled him toward her, rising up onto her toes as she settled her arms around his shoulder, their bodies pressed together under the water. After a moment, his arms encircled her again, one hand settling on a shoulder and the other returning around her waist.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, resting her nose against his throat, just under his chin. From the corner of her eye, she saw his cheeks twitch into a smile before a droplet of water invaded her vision, making her blink them closed again. She planted a kiss on the closest patch of skin without moving her head and tightened her arms around his shoulders in a gentle squeeze before lifting her head to look up at him. His eyes held the only remnant of his smile as she strained on her toes to capture his lips. Every time he'd try to deepen the display she'd retreat, resorting to just barely touching his lips with hers before returning to the shallow kissing, knowing it would grate on him. She gave in to his demand only when a hand claimed the back of her neck to prevent her from escaping him again, the possessiveness in his touch sending her reeling. She arched her back into him, as he turned them both, pressing against her until she felt her back press against the wall. His lips broke from hers, and her moan of protest was lost as his lips trailed down the side of her neck. She let her hands slide over his shoulders and down his sides, feeling the muscles jump under her touch. With their bodies still pressed together, she didn't have any access to him, so she settled for digging her fingers into his sides and arching into him even more, trying to push him away to let her hand slide between them, but he was having none of it, just pushing back against her as his lips worked tortuously slowly on her skin. He stole a quick glance at her face, the expression there prompting a growl of satisfaction. Eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

He'd had enough. A startled gasp escaped her as he lifted her off the floor and slammed her against the wall, his knee nudging between her thighs. Her hands gripped his shoulders to support herself as he guided himself into her, her back arching away from the wall. His hands settled on her hips as a slow rhythm started, his hands digging into her skin as her small mewling sounds echoed off the walls. Her arms shook as his pace increased, and finally he stopped, sliding an arm behind her back to hold her against him with a small chuckle.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. She nodded slightly, letting him support her weight as she moved a hand from his shoulder to his head, pulling him against her belly. He planted a small kiss above her navel before pressing his cheek to her skin, reaching for the handle to shut the water off. He carried her out of the bathroom and into his room, leaving a trail of water behind them. Lowering himself with her, he deposited her on her back onto his bed, still sopping wet, the blanket soaking up the water. _Oh well. _The dance resumed, and she met his thrusts halfway, fingernails digging into his back. His lips sought hers, and a growl escaped him as she clamped down on his lower lip, sinking teeth into the flesh gently but insistently. Her face twisted, whimpers halting as she neared the edge, a shaky groan released as she fell. His pace slowed as the tremors overtook her, and he waited until she stilled before continuing. The kiss was broken as her lips explored his shoulders, neck, chest – anywhere she could reach. Their eyes met, and they just stared into the silver pools, the brink approaching at the same moment this time. Her eyebrow twitched downward, a whimper breaking free, and their lips slammed together again as they both got there, rhythm unbroken until neither could move any more. He let his head settle on her shoulder as she clung to him, still trembling under him. And slumber took over.

She felt him shift on the bed next to her and opened her eyes slowly, smiling at how peaceful he looked in his sleep. He cradled her against his chest, both arms wrapped around her protectively. Her lips placed a kiss on his chin, and his eyes fluttered open slowly, a small smile forming on his lips as he let them close again. Her smile fell slowly.

"We need to get to work," she said quietly.

"On what?"

"Planning." His eyes opened again, and searched hers. _Oh yeah, _he thought, _Anders. _He nodded, kissing her forehead. "Got any ideas yet?"

"Some," he said with a shrug, pulling her onto his chest as he rolled onto his back.

"How many do we need?" she pressed.

"I don't know yet." Her eyebrow rose, but he didn't see. He'd trapped her under his arms and closed his eyes again. "Haven't gotten the floor plans yet."

"From who?"

"Contact," he said. She sighed. "I know, I know," he mumbled. "We'll get to work as soon as I get them. Got a friend digging them out for me."

"I get Anders," she said flatly. His eyes opened.

"I figured," he replied. She nodded as if to convince him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" Her eyebrow rose again, as if it were a dumb question. "I mean, once the planning starts, there's no going back."

"Why would I want to?"

"He got the better of you once," Riddick commented gently.

"He deserves it," she insisted.

"I know," Riddick said with a nod. "But there's nothing wrong with letting someone else handle it."

"You're not getting him for me, Riddick," she pressed. "I need this."

"You need this or you want this?" She thought for a moment.

"Both." He nodded.

"Then we'll start putting something together when I get the floorplans."

"I mean it, Riddick. He's my kill."

"Fine," Riddick conceded with a shrug. "Then you kill him." She nodded in satisfaction.

The plan was simple. After Kody's last attempt at sending Anders to his end, he'd opted out of active duty, choosing instead to draw disability until he was fully recovered. Riddick knew his death would immediately be pinned on Kody, given the history between her and the Warden, but it was a chance she was willing to take and he was willing to help her with. _It'll be cathartic,_ he convinced himself. Tim dropped them planetside just outside the city, and they stole into the limits just after sun down, traveling through the shadows. Riddick pointed out the building, and they split up, taking their own ways in. Kody worked a ventilation grate loose and slid inside the tunneling, slowly working her way toward Anders' living quarters. Riddick opted for the window, freeclimbing the brick wall until he could reach the fire escape ladder. He used an electronics scanner to search for any security systems on the window, and, thankfully, found none. After silently cutting away the glass blocking the locking mechanism, he let himself in through the kitchen, glancing up at the vent to see Kody working on the screws from the inside. She nodded at him, and he continued into the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. After a quick glance over his shoulder to see her lower herself from the vent, he took a breath.

"Nice to see you, Warden." Anders jolted out of sleep, instantly sitting upright. He shook visibly, staring at Riddick with wide eyes as his hands searched the bedside table for his glasses. "Little to the left," Riddick directed, then clicked his tongue. "Your _other_ left." Anders' fingers closed on his glasses and shakily perched them on his nose. A stain grew on the comforter as Riddick's massive form came into focus. Anders stammered, but couldn't form coherent words. He felt Kody's hand on his back. "You know," he continued. "I can appreciate a good crime, you know that, Anders. But what I don't get is why you had to fuck with a certain friend of mine." He paused, but Anders didn't say anything. "And man, when you fuck with someone, you really fuck with someone, don't you?" Riddick grinned, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kody came around his side. Anders backed up against the wall, his limbs refusing to help him get anywhere, and the glint off the blade in Kody's hand reflected in his eyes.

"How ya doin', Uncle Anders?" she asked quietly, her voice low.

"Make it fast," Riddick warned. She nodded her head slowly, her eyes reflecting the heat of Anders' body. She leapt onto the foot of the bed, watching Anders jump and cower below her, finally taking a knee next to him. A shot rang out as her arm rose, and Riddick started, the impact to Kody's body propelling her forward, the knife sinking home, deep into Anders chest as she fell forward. Riddick turned, eyes narrowing at Chris, whose arm was still poised in the air after pulling the trigger. Riddick leapt at the former guard, feeling heat spread through his chest before the room spun. He saw the ground flying toward him – no, he was falling. Another shot, and Riddick waited for the second impact, watching Chris fall instead. The world went into slow motion as Riddick looked up, Tim standing in the doorway, now lowering his own gun. Riddick turned back to the bedroom, tunnel vision closing in. Kody was still draped over Anders, their blood now dripping off the sheet and onto the floor into a puddle.

"Riddick?" Tim's voice seemed distant.

"Get her out of here," he gasped, voice gurgling slightly. Tim's boots thudded on the floor as he ran to Kody's side. Her voice was muffled, Riddick's ears now ringing, but he watched Tim pluck her off the bed and support her weight.

"I'm fine," she whispered, trying to push Tim away. "Get Riddick first." She fell to her knees at Riddick's side. "Riddick?" Her hands were covered in blood, but she cupped his cheeks anyway. "Stay with me, Riddick." Her voice grew further and further away, and he stared up at her, watching her lips move even after there was no more sound. "Riddick?" Tim cringed. That was panic in her voice.

"Kody, we have to go," Tim insisted quietly, reaching down at her, but she batted him away feebly.

"Riddick?" Riddick blinked, forcing his arm off the ground to settle on her cheek. Her face was pale, eyes franticly running over his face. Finally, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his, taking his hand in hers. "You're gonna be okay, just hang on," she continued. "Tim, we gotta get him up and back to the ship."

"I can't carry both of you."

"Well, fucking _TRY!_" she bellowed, the coughed, a wet gurgling sound, before glancing up at Tim. Riddick's hand tightened on hers, and then went limp, and she turned back, shock taking over her expression.

"Riddick?" Her free hand went to his face, the other clamping around his hand tightly. "Riddick?" She squeezed her eyes shut, allowing the tears to flow as she leaned her head on his chest, clutching him fiercely before letting a sob loose. She felt Tim's arms go around her, and she fought weakly, finally breaking out of his grasp to fall back onto Riddick's now lifeless body to kiss him one last time. Her fingers drew his lids down over silvered eyes, and Tim lifted her off the ground, nearly running back to the ship.

He lowered her to her feet to close the hatch behind them, jumping forward but not quickly enough to catch her before she fell, coughing violently, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. She heard the door airlock, and felt Tim lift her off the ground again, carrying her back to the sick bay and placing her gently on the cot there. She coughed again, then stared at the red spot left on the pillow, groaning as Tim struggled with her clothing to get to the wound. She drew in a rattled breath, twining her hands in the sheets beneath her.

"Tim?"

"Hang on, doll, I'm working on it," came his hurried reply. She closed her eyes, calling up her mental photo album of her now deceased lover. "Kody?" Another wet cough. "Hang on, babe." His voice sounded like he was in a small, metal box, and she opened her eyes, blinking a few times before deciding it took too much effort to keep them open. It was uncomfortable lying on her side, and she reached behind her, flailing her arm until she felt his hand, his skin slippery with her blood.

"Tim," she commanded weakly. "Let me go."

"You're going to be fine," he insisted, twisting his hand from hers to continue working.

"Tim," she whispered, feeling him pause behind her. She held out her hand again, smiling as she felt his close around hers. "I never told him I loved him," she admitted, her smile falling as the tears returned. She heard Tim swallow thickly, and squeezed his hand as she forced her eyes open. "C'mere." His hand remained in hers as he walked around the small cot to her other side, leaning over her. "You know I love you, right?" His brows were furrowed, his own tears threatening to break as he nodded slowly. "Good," she whispered, a small smile returning as her eyes closed. Tim watched as she took in a shaky breath, rattling with blood. Her hand squeezed his, trembling slightly, and a single tear slipped over her cheek as her hand relaxed in his. He finally let his tears fall, reaching out to brush blood-matted hair from her face and leaned down to kiss her forehead. He sat there for a while, still holding her hand, stroking her cheek, until the sirens drew closer and tires screeched. He closed his eyes and stood, drawing the sheet over her before heading out to greet his fate.


	28. Epilogue

Epilogue

On a distant planet, a woman's cry was silenced by the whimper of a new life. A baby boy, brought into the world with an old spirit, well known throughout the universe. Not for its kindness, justice, charity, or fairness. Rather, for its brutality, confidence, and intelligence. A spirit known and feared, recycled from a long time ago. A spirit once called Riddick.

[ A/N: Okay, okay, kinda cheesy epilogue, but hey… what if? And anyway, I really felt bad for killing Riddick. Really, I did, but it just had to end that way. This way, he gets to live on, though he may look a little different. But if we know Riddick as well as we think we do… ]


End file.
